"He responded to my hail," the Woman says.
The Man’s arrogance makes him look through her then propel him to give her a slight get-out-of- my-way bump as he slide onto the taxi’s back seat. She decides to get onto the front seat but her anger makes her sit beside him.
"Where to?" the driver asks.
The Man says city hall. She gives a downtown destination.
The Man sits with his knees spread wide apart, commandeering most of the back seat.
"There is enough space for the both of us," she suggests.
The Man ignores her, retrieves a newspaper from his briefcase, then in a stiff neck manner, he reads articles. She shrinks her posture to make herself comfortable, forces herself to ignore the Man; because, she is depressed enough already that she has to sell her family heirloom to which ever jeweler who will offer her the best price.
To relax, she watches the scenery of people and buildings that makes the city, the city to be in. She is in the city on that belief, and now she must get rid of her family heirloom, to stay fashionably dressed for her new job and to eat decent meals until her payday, two weeks away. She wishes faith and luck would collide and sprinkle her with good fortune, so she could keep her family heirloom.
The Man breaks into her mood, announcing this is his stop. He glares at her signaling she must move to make room for him to depart the taxi. She twists and shift herself to give the Man space to shimmy pass her out of the taxi. She looks at him until he is lost in the crowd then realizes he did not offer to pay his share of the fare.
"Cheap bastard," she mumbles.
She notices the money clip on the seat, and the top bill is a hundred dollar bill, and there seems to be a lot more of the bills. She starts to call the Man back, but he is gone. She decides to inform the driver of the lost and found item, but he is busy trying to maneuver back into traffic. She gets the clip, counts the bills realizes it is twenty times what selling her heirloom would do for her. She remembers the arrogance of the Man, and stuffs the clip and bills into her purse next to her heirloom. She thinks about the consequences of what she has done. Then, she surmises the Man probably could not identify her or the taxi driver even if he wanted too.
The driver stops the vehicle at her destination. She pays him and gives him a tip. She walks away with a smile happy her family heirloom will remain so.
George A. Davis