Taxi 4267
I was no longer homeless, and I had a job. Compared with day labor pushing carts through the garment district, driving a cab seemed easy… and by my standards it paid well.
This evening I had started with two quick fares, each less than five dollars on the meter. Tonight, the weather was pleasant, but having left off my passengers in Little Italy, I now found myself stuck in a single-lane jam on a narrow street. There was another empty cab behind me, so if anyone were to hail a taxi, I would be first in line for the fare. Or so I thought.







