The bus has left the city, and the sudden bumps on the ground make it make dull noises from time to time.
The whole car was shaking, like a dying old man, moaning and groaning about the shortness of life.
The few remaining passengers complained and cursed angrily, and the seemingly high-sounding woman began to stamp her slender heels roughly.
The driver clenched the hand controlling the direction irritably. Sweat quickly seeped out and condensed, and finally slid down his forehead to his stubble-covered chin, and was finally sucked clean off his shirt collar.
There was a child sitting by the window. He was half-leaning on the backrest calmly, not caring about the bump at all.
The sunlight shines through the gaps between the trees and shines on his white face, brightly and dimly outlining this calm face. The wind blowing from the window mixed with warmth brushed his earlobes, and the ink-colored hair flew messily. It's like spilled ink melting in the clear air, depicting a beautiful scene in varying shades.