“Taxi!”
The sky thundered around her with comforting and deafening rolls. She stood under the eve of the porch as the torrents of water continued in one, indecipherable sheet. Knowing there was no point in waiting for it to let up, she seethed for a few more moments, tapping her foot impatiently. Allowing just that, she finally gave up and retreated from her dry haven. The cold soaked her honey-gold hair immediately, snaked down her bun, and finally touched the back of the neck. Like a loving hand, it ran fervently under her blouse within seconds. She skipped off the steps and out of her front lawn as fast as her stubby heels allowed her, clutching the sodden leather bag holding her precious files to her chest. When she finally reached the street, the heavens slowly opened and blessed her for what seemed like the first time that day, for a familiar tint of yellow swam down towards her. She crazily flapped her arm, hoping the driver would not be blinded by the day’s inconvenience for a customer.
After a fearful second, he lazily slowed and pulled up to her. She did not wait for him to stop completely before wrenching the door and throwing herself in the back seat. The temporary relief from the downpour allowed her a small smile as she wiped her face hastily to speak.
“42nd and Plaza. Floor it.”
Only, the expectant smell of musty cigarette smoke and moldy mints did not meet her. Instead, a spotless back seat with no partition, and an oddly-trimmed driver indicated something very, very wrong.
“Shit.”
