Ethan was impatient. Three cabs had passed, and none of them had stopped. He was beginning to feel the horrible, end-of-the-world, crushing sensation known as the crash. He had to get to Tony and rectify the situation. Right then, nothing else mattered. Not remorse over what his life had become. Not disappointment over Tony’s refusal to help him in his ‘ultimate solution’ to his problems. Not anything, but getting high again.
Why weren’t these f*****g cabs cooperating?
Finally, one pulled over. Ethan yanked open its door and barked Tony’s address at the driver, telling him there was a ten-dollar tip in it for him if he got him there fast, even though the fare, itself, would amount to less than ten dollars.
Ethan’s nerves jangled. He found it hard to sit still. He moved from one side of
