A to B

The man in the back seat looked disconcerted, kind of lost. He was probably trying to remember when he had taken the cab, or where we were going, but didn't want to look stupid or crazy. I decided to make some small talk, get him eased a bit.

"How about those Nicks?" A little secret between you and me: I was the first cabbie who said that phrase. Everybody else picked it up from me. Yeah, I'm older than I look. No, I wasn't always a driver.

Anyway, the guy just looked at his chest, didn't even hear me, I think. It was a rather ugly-looking wound he had there, I'll tell you. Bleeding all over the seat, took me hours to get the stain out.

"I was shot." He sounded kinda sad, you know. Like he had figured out before it was going to be something like this. "Are we going to the hospital?"

"Nobody told me anything about a hospital, mister. Anyway, here we are - the airport." Luckily for him he didn't make a fuss. He just paid the fare and off he went. Never saw him again, so I figure he got his flight right.

And by the way, here we are, too. Good old airport. The route here seems to get busier every year, you know. Good thing I'm not feeling any older, and this car is far more comfy than the things I used to ferry people around back in the day.

The fare's two coins, by the way. No, leave the door open, I'm picking somebody up for the return trip.

.finis.