The Song That Played Every Friday

Imogen worked in a small office with ten other people. Every Friday afternoon, her coworker Quentin played an old song. It came from the break room radio.

伊莫金在一间小办公室里工作，那里还有另外十个人。每个星期五下午，她的同事昆廷都会放一首老歌。歌声从休息室的收音机里传出来。

The song was slow and a little strange. It sounded like nothing else on the radio. Imogen didn't know the singer or the song's name.

那首歌节奏很慢，还有点奇怪。它听起来和电台里的其他歌都不一样。伊莫金不认识那位歌手，也不知道那首歌的名字。

"Why do you play that song every week?" Imogen asked him one Friday.

“你为什么每周都放那首歌？”一个星期五，伊莫金问他。

Quentin looked up from his coffee. "It's just a habit," he said quietly. Then he turned back to his desk.

昆廷从咖啡杯上抬起头。“只是一个习惯，”他轻声说。然后他转回身去看自己的桌子。

Imogen thought that was an odd answer. She wondered if he simply liked old music. Maybe there was another reason.

伊莫金觉得这个回答很奇怪。她想，他是不是只是喜欢老音乐。也许还有别的原因。

The next Friday, she watched Quentin closely. He pressed play at exactly three o'clock. Then he sat still and listened. He did not talk to anyone.

下一个星期五，她仔细观察昆廷。他在三点整按下了播放键。然后他静静地坐着听。他没有跟任何人说话。

After the song ended, Imogen walked over to his desk. "I don't mean to be nosy," she said. "But that song means something to you."

歌结束后，伊莫金走到他的桌子旁。“我不是有意打听，”她说，“但那首歌对你来说有特别的意义。”

Quentin nodded slowly. "My grandmother sang it to me on Fridays after school," he said. "She died two years ago this month."

昆廷慢慢点了点头。“我奶奶以前每个星期五放学后都给我唱这首歌，”他说，“她两年前的这个月去世了。”

"I'm sorry," Imogen said softly. "I didn't know."

“我很难过，”伊莫金轻声说，“我不知道。”

"It's okay," Quentin said. "The song makes me think of her kitchen. It makes me think of fresh bread too. It's a nice memory, not a sad one."

“没关系，”昆廷说，“这首歌让我想起她的厨房。也让我想起刚出炉的面包。那是一段美好的回忆，不是悲伤的。”

Imogen smiled. "Then I hope you keep playing it every Friday."

伊莫金笑了。“那我希望你每个星期五都继续放。”

The next week, the song started again at three o'clock. Imogen brought Quentin a cup of tea. She sat down quietly beside him.

下一周，三点整，那首歌又响了起来。伊莫金给昆廷端来一杯茶。她安静地在他身旁坐了下来。