He climbed into the back seat, which smelled faintly of old leather and peppermint. The driver was an older man with silver hair and a cap pulled low over his eyes. He didn’t ask for an address. "Long night?" the driver asked, his voice like gravel. "The longest," Elias sighed. "I'm heading to 42nd and—"
Elias realized then that he hadn't paid a fare. But as he looked at Sarah, who was smiling for the first time in months, he knew the ride was worth more than any amount of money. He climbed into the back seat, which smelled
"Go on," the driver urged. "She’s waiting for a sign that she’s not alone." "Long night
The car turned down a street Elias didn’t recognize—a narrow cobblestone alley lined with shops that looked decades out of date. Before Elias could protest, the taxi slowed to a crawl. Outside the window was a small, brightly lit bakery. Through the glass, Elias saw a woman sitting alone at a table, a single cupcake with a candle in front of her. She looked devastated. But as he looked at Sarah, who was
It wasn't a business card. It was a faded photograph of a younger version of the driver, holding a baby girl in front of that very bakery.