11
It was already ten after seven when I finally got a cab. Whether the car’s interior was clean or dirty no longer mattered to me. The most important thing was that it drove. Fast!
“Where exactly? Prospect Mira is long,” asked the thin driver with a short haircut.
“I don’t remember the building. I’ll show you once we’re there. It’s right on the avenue… I mean, no need to make turns. On the right side…” nervous, I struggled to formulate thoughts.
“Alright, got it,” the driver said. “Are we in a rush?”
“We are late,” I quickly answered.
“Well, in that case, let’s try…” he sang the usual driver song.
“Of course, of course! Obviously! If we get there in forty minutes,” I interrupted his pitch, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
There was a dreadful number of cars on the road. I could be
