Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Elise Wilk

maybe they’ll help us out. But I don’t think anything can help our son now. That guy, Bobby, looked out the window during the whole trip. Really, he did. At one point, his cell phone rang. I checked to see if it was one of those expensive phones. It was. So that’s how things are, this guy who almost killed my son had a state of the art cell phone. His conversation wasn’t very interesting though. Maybe my son would have a phone like that too if he were healthy. Even if he had one of those cheap ones, it wouldn’t matter, he would definitely have friends to call with it. He would have traveled around in a taxi, just like this guy does. I was this thinking like this, about one thing, and then

another, and before I knew it, we arrived at the address where I had to drop this guy off. Bobby. I stopped the car. He paid the fair. Then, he got out, and walked away. I didn’t say a word to him. I watched him go. His pants were splashed with water. He must have stepped into one of those street puddles. My fondest memory of my son was when he was six years old and one of his baby teeth was loose. I tied one end of a string to his tooth, and the other end to a doorknob. Then I slammed the door shut. The tooth popped out and my son gave it to me and said I should hang it in my taxi for good luck. Since then, I’ve changed cars about seven times, but I always take the tooth along. It’s brought me good luck.

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