I slouched down low in the back seat, not wanting to risk being seen by the wrong person, even in passing. The cabby looked back at me and shook his head, disgust evident in his face. Honestly I’m a little surprised he even stopped to pick me up. I looked like nothing but trouble. I was dirty, unkempt and my clothes were stained with sweat and blood. Any smart man would have driven right on by, but he had stopped.
“Thank you for picking me up,” I say to the reflection in the rearview.
“Eh, a fare’s a fare. Just make sure you pay.”