Ilan has emptied the village post box every morning for eleven years. He arrives at twenty to seven, when the road is empty and the air smells of cut grass. He opens the little door with his small key and slides the letters into his bag. Then he drives to the next village. It is a quiet job, and he likes it that way.
十一年来，伊兰每天早晨都来清空村里的邮筒。他六点四十到，这时路上空荡荡的，空气里有割过草的气味。他用小钥匙打开那扇小门，把信滑进自己的袋子里。然后开车去下一个村子。这是份安静的工作，他喜欢这样。
On a Monday in May, something new sits on top of the box. It is a stack of paper cups, about thirty of them, held down by a flat stone.
五月的一个星期一，邮筒顶上多了点新东西。那是一摞纸杯，大约有三十个，用一块扁平的石头压着。
Ilan frowns. "Somebody's rubbish," he says to the empty road.
伊兰皱起了眉头。“谁扔的垃圾，”他对着空荡荡的路说。
He picks up the cups and carries them to the bin by the school gate. He puts the stone back in the hedge, where he thinks it belongs. Then he collects the post and drives away.
他拿起杯子，走到校门口的垃圾桶边扔掉了。他把石头放回树篱里，他觉得那才是它该待的地方。然后他取了信，开车走了。
On Tuesday, there is another stack and a different stone. Ilan throws them away too. On Wednesday, the stack is taller, and the stone is bigger. He sighs, and he throws them away again.
星期二，又有一摞杯子，压着另一块石头。伊兰把它们也扔掉了。星期三，杯子摞得更高了，石头也更大了。他叹了口气，又把它们扔掉了。
Kalani, meanwhile, is having a very bad week.
与此同时，卡拉尼正在度过非常糟糕的一周。
She is nineteen, and she has just come home after her first year at college. She wants to do something useful in the village. So she has started a morning running club for beginners. Twelve people have joined. They meet at seven o'clock by the post box, and they run once round the lake.
她十九岁，刚刚读完大学第一年回到家。她想为村子做点有用的事。于是她办了一个面向初学者的晨跑俱乐部。有十二个人加入了。他们七点钟在邮筒旁集合，绕着湖跑一圈。
Kalani is in charge of everything. She plans the route, she counts the runners, and she worries a lot. Every morning at half past six, she leaves a stack of cups on the box. Later, she comes back with a big jug of water for the runners.
卡拉尼什么事都管。她规划路线，清点跑步的人，还操心个不停。每天早晨六点半，她都在邮筒上放一摞杯子。过一会儿，她会拿着一大壶水回来给跑步的人。
But every morning, the cups are gone.
可是每天早上，杯子都不见了。
"Someone is stealing them," she tells her friend on the phone. "Or someone doesn't like us. I don't know which is worse."
“有人在偷，”她在电话里对朋友说，“要不就是有人不喜欢我们。我不知道哪个更糟。”
"Just ask around," her friend says.
“去问问就是了，”她的朋友说。
"I can't," Kalani says. "What if I sound silly?"
“我不能，”卡拉尼说，“万一我听起来很傻呢？”
On Thursday, she writes a note and puts it under the stone. It says, "Please stop taking our cups. They are for the runners."
星期四，她写了一张字条，压在石头底下。上面写着：“请别再拿走我们的杯子。它们是给跑步的人用的。”
When Ilan finds the note, he goes very quiet, as he always does when he is annoyed. He reads it twice. Nobody tells a postman what to do with his own post box, he thinks. He takes a pen from his pocket. Underneath, he writes, "Please stop leaving rubbish on a public post box."
伊兰发现字条的时候，变得非常安静，每次他恼火时都是这样。他读了两遍。没有人能告诉一个邮递员怎么处理他自己的邮筒，他想。他从口袋里掏出一支笔，在下面写道：“请别再把垃圾放在公共邮筒上。”
He puts the note back under the stone. Then he feels a little pleased with himself, and a little ashamed.
他把字条放回石头下面。然后，他有点得意，又有点惭愧。
Later that morning, Kalani reads his answer under the stone. She feels her stomach turn over. Rubbish! Those are good cups, and she paid for them with her own money.
那天上午晚些时候，卡拉尼在石头底下读到了他的回复。她觉得胃里翻腾起来。垃圾！那些可是好杯子，是她用自己的钱买的。
She decides that notes are not working. She sets her alarm for five o'clock. At twenty past six, she is sitting on the low wall next to the post box. She has a jug of water and her phone. She is determined to say something to the person who takes her cups, and to say it clearly.
她断定字条不管用。她把闹钟定在五点。六点二十分，她坐在邮筒旁边的矮墙上，带着一壶水和手机。她下定决心，要对那个拿她杯子的人说点什么，而且要说得清清楚楚。
At twenty to seven, the white van comes round the corner. Ilan gets out with his small key and his bag. He sees Kalani on the wall, and he stops.
六点四十，白色的货车拐过街角。伊兰带着小钥匙和袋子下了车。他看见墙上的卡拉尼，停住了脚步。
"Good morning," he says carefully.
“早上好，”他小心翼翼地说。
"Are you the person who throws away my cups?" Kalani asks. Her voice shakes, but she keeps going.
“你就是那个把我的杯子扔掉的人吗？”卡拉尼问。她的声音在发抖，但她继续说了下去。
"Are you the person who leaves rubbish on my post box?" Ilan says.
“你就是那个把垃圾放在我邮筒上的人吗？”伊兰说。
For a moment, they look at each other. Then Ilan looks at the jug and at the sports bag beside her. Last, he looks at the stack of cups on the wall.
一时间，他们互相看着。然后伊兰看了看水壶，看了看她身边的运动包，最后看了看墙上那摞杯子。
"Rubbish?" Kalani says. "They are for the running club. We meet here every morning at seven."
“垃圾？”卡拉尼说，“那是给跑步俱乐部用的。我们每天早上七点在这里集合。”
"I didn't know about a running club," Ilan says slowly. "I just saw cups. Nobody ever leaves anything on this box. I thought somebody was making a joke."
“我不知道有什么跑步俱乐部，”伊兰缓缓地说，“我只看见了杯子。从来没有人在这个邮筒上放过东西。我还以为是谁在开玩笑。”
"I thought you were stealing them," Kalani says.
“我还以为你在偷它们，”卡拉尼说。
"I was," Ilan says. "In a way. I put thirty of them in the bin at the school gate."
“我是偷了，”伊兰说，“某种意义上。我把三十个杯子扔进了校门口的垃圾桶。”
Kalani laughs suddenly, and the laugh surprises her. Ilan starts to laugh too. It is a rusty sound, because he does not laugh much before breakfast. They stand there for a minute, two people laughing at a post box.
卡拉尼忽然笑了，这笑声让她自己也吃了一惊。伊兰也笑了起来。那笑声有点生涩，因为他早饭前很少笑。他们站在那里足有一分钟，两个人对着一个邮筒大笑。
"I should have asked someone," Kalani says, when she can speak again. "I wrote a note instead. A rude note."
“我本该问问别人的，”等能开口说话了，卡拉尼说，“我却写了张字条。一张很没礼貌的字条。”
"My note was ruder," Ilan says. "I am sorry. If you had put your name on it, I would have understood."
“我的字条更没礼貌，”伊兰说，“对不起。要是你写上你的名字，我就会明白了。”
"I was afraid," Kalani says. "I'm not very good at telling people things."
“我害怕，”卡拉尼说，“我不太会跟人说事情。”
Ilan scratches his chin. "At your age, I left my first job because I wouldn't ask one small question," he says. "It took me three years to find another one. Ask early, and ask out loud. That is my only advice."
伊兰挠了挠下巴。“在你这个年纪，我因为不肯问一个小问题，丢了第一份工作，”他说，“我花了三年才找到另一份。早点问，大声问。这是我唯一的建议。”
Kalani nods slowly. For a long time, nobody has given her advice that did not feel like an order. She thinks about it all the way round the lake that morning, with twelve runners puffing behind her.
卡拉尼慢慢点了点头。很久以来，还没有人给过她听起来不像命令的建议。那天早晨，她绕着湖跑的一路上都在想这句话，身后是十二个气喘吁吁的跑友。
On Saturday, Ilan arrives at twenty to seven as usual. This time, he brings something with him. It is a small wooden shelf from his garage. He screws it to the wall beside the post box, a handspan from the ground.
星期六，伊兰像往常一样六点四十到了。这一次，他带来了一样东西。那是一块他车库里的小木架。他把它拧在邮筒旁边的墙上，离地一拃高。
"Cups can go here," he says to nobody in particular. "Out of the way of the letters, and out of the way of my bin."
“杯子可以放这儿，”他对着谁也不是的方向说，“不挡着信件，也不碍着我的垃圾桶。”
When Kalani comes with her jug, she finds the shelf and the cups already lined up on it. She says nothing for a second. Then she pours the first cup of water and holds it out to him.
卡拉尼拎着水壶来的时候，发现架子已经装好了，杯子已经整整齐齐地摆在上面。她愣了一会儿没说话。然后她倒了第一杯水，递给他。
"For the postman," she says.
“给邮递员的，”她说。
Ilan takes it, drinks it in one go, and gives the cup back. "Better than coffee," he says. "Don't tell anyone."
伊兰接过来，一口喝完，把杯子还给她。“比咖啡还好，”他说，“别告诉别人。”
By Monday, the runners have a new rule. Every morning, someone brings a stack of cups for the shelf. Every morning, Ilan checks that it is neatly done. If the cups are straight, he gives two short beeps on his horn. If they are crooked, he gives one long one.
到星期一，跑步的人有了一条新规矩。每天早晨，有人带一摞杯子放在架子上。每天早晨，伊兰都会检查摆得整不整齐。要是杯子摆得直，他就短促地按两下喇叭。要是歪了，就按一声长的。
On Friday, Kalani lifts the last stack from the shelf to pour the water. She turns the bottom cup over in her hand and stops. Inside the rim, in thin blue pencil, someone has drawn a tiny bird.
星期五，卡拉尼从架子上拿起最后一摞杯子去倒水。她把最下面的杯子在手里翻过来，愣住了。杯沿内侧，有人用细细的蓝铅笔画了一只小鸟。
She did not draw it. She looks at Ilan, who is locking the post box, and he shakes his head.
不是她画的。她看向正在锁邮筒的伊兰，他摇了摇头。
"Not mine," he says. "I can't draw a bird to save my life."
“不是我，”他说，“我画鸟可是画不出个样来。”
They both look at the empty road. Then, far away, at the other end of the lake, a single runner starts to wave.
他们两个都望向空荡荡的路。然后，在湖的另一头很远的地方，一个孤零零的跑步者开始挥手。
