Even the Red Lights Helped Me Today

When I left the house, I happened to catch the garbage truck. I rushed downstairs with my trash. The garbage truck's music was still playing, but the truck was already starting to move. The driver saw me in the rearview mirror and hit the brakes. "Thank you—" I panted as I threw the trash onto the truck. "Come five minutes earlier next time," he said with a smile, and the truck slowly drove away. I went to the breakfast shop. The owner was frying eggs and said when she saw me, "You're a bit late today, aren't you? The usual?" "The usual." She fried a sunny-side-up egg, placed it on toast, and added an extra slice of cheese. "Here you go, this cheese is about to expire." I knew she was joking; the cheese had just been opened. At noon, I went to the post office to mail something. I took a number, and there were eight people ahead of me. I was scrolling through my phone when suddenly the announcement called my number. I looked up, and the electronic display at the counter had skipped several numbers. "This way," the clerk beckoned me over. I walked over and placed the package on the counter. He weighed it and said, "Perfect, it's not overweight." "What good luck." "Everyone's sending light packages today," he chuckled and stamped the parcel. In the afternoon, I took two hours off and visited an art museum. The exhibition that normally had a queue had hardly any visitors today. I walked slowly, looked slowly, and stood in front of a painting for a long time. It depicted a sunset by the sea, with warm, orange and red colors, as if someone had painted the twilight onto the canvas. An auntie standing next to me suddenly said, "This painting reminds me of my husband." "Why?" "He used to take me to the sea