The Taxi Driver

The Taxi Driver

“Sir, I have been waiting for 15 minutes. I am very late. I am sorry but I will report this. If Grab wasn’t so damn expensive, I would have gotten one instead. ” I blurted out as soon as I got inside the taxi. I could hear The Fly’s “Got You Where I Want You” in full blast.

Well, I think you’re smart
You sweet thing
Tell me your sign
I’m dying here

I looked at the rearview mirror but I can only see his eyes. He was squinting from the early afternoon glare. Or I think he looked mad. I should be the one furious. He was late for fifteen minutes. I was sweating from the heat and the dust was unforgiving. My feet hurt like hell. Three inches of sole torment. High heels will be the death of me. I saw his hand clenched on the gear stick, his nails were rust colored and grimy.

Ah-ooh (suffer, suffer, me don’t get no rougher)
(Rub it up, baby girl, torture me like no other)
Got you where I want you (suffer, suffer, me don’t get no rougher)

“It smells like something died in here!” I said loud enough for him to hear. The odor of rotting fruit or something more dreadful started creeping up my olfactory senses. I took my phone out to record the cab number and the name of the taxi company. I saw a text message: “Good afternoon ma’am, sorry I am late. Traffic was terrible going to your building. But I am here right in front of the entrance.” My hands turned icy cold as he turned right into an unfamiliar street.

Got you where I want you
I’ve got you where I want you
Got you where I want you.



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