The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes were kind but incredibly tired. "Most people think they choose their destination. But sometimes, the cab chooses for them."
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. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror
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. But sometimes, the cab chooses for them
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—" But as he looked at Sarah, who was
"That’s Sarah," the driver said. "She’s celebrating her first birthday without her father. He used to drive this cab."
