Driving a taxi was much like being a priest or bartender. Strangers would just tell you everything, spill their guts to those had never seen before and would never see again. Why did they want to unburden themselves to me? Even today, I still don’t know.
Maybe it was because they were staring at the back of my head.
I can’t remember where I picked her up, but I took her to her house. She told me she was divorced. She told me the story of her marriage and how it didn’t work out. I usually don’t feel sorry for people, but in her case, I did.
She told me she had prayed to find an answer to if he was the right one or not. She married him.
She had a bath drawn when he came home, a hot dinner on the table. My God, I thought, what woman does that? I’ve never met one.
Still, the marriage did not work out. Feeling pity for someone is an awful feeling. I don’t like it.
“You’re so easy to talk to,” she told me. I’d said almost nothing, but I wondered why it didn’t work out.
I watched her get out of her car and walk into her house. Even today, when I think about it, I still feel sorry for her.
I hope she found someone else.