Cab’s outside to take me to the Rowing Club to hang out with D. The rattley door closes as I sink into the seat.
“Mona dawasada awey?” “When did you get in?”
“Acchiee kohomada” “How’s your grandmother”
It took me a few minutes of surprised silence to put a face to…well…if not a name then a familiar face and a few more than a few excursions. There’s something ironic about a cab driver who both knows about your grandmother’s health as well as what you did with that girl in the back of his cab on the way back from Sugar.
The possibilities for blackmail…they make the mind boggle.
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