I arrived at the address and pushed the horn. After waiting for a few minutes I pushed again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift, I thought about just driving away, but instead I parked the car and walked up to the door and knocked.
“Just a minute,” answered a weak, elderly voice. After a long time, the door opened. A small woman in her 90s stood before me. By her side was a small suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.
I carried her suitcase out to the taxi and helped her get into the taxi. Then she gave me an address and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?” “It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice. I don’t have any family left.The doctor says I don’t have very long.”
I reached over the meter and turned it off. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. We visited many places meaningful to her, her workplace, her old neighbourhood, her daughter’s school... As the sun went down, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. When we arrived, she got off and asked, “How much do I owe you?” “Nothing,” I said. “But you are making a living!” She said. “There is the other passenger on it,” I answered. She hugged me, and then walked into the dim evening light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
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