"I know where you’re going," the driver interrupted softly. Elias froze. "I haven't told you yet."
"That’s Sarah," the driver said. "She’s celebrating her first birthday without her father. He used to drive this cab." "I know where you’re going," the driver interrupted softly
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." "She’s celebrating her first birthday without her father
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. "Most people think they choose their destination
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—"
Elias looked at the driver, then back at the woman. A strange feeling of recognition washed over him. He remembered this bakery from his childhood; he hadn't been here in twenty years.
Elias felt a pull he couldn’t explain. He stepped out of the taxi and walked into the bakery. When Sarah looked up and saw him, her eyes widened. "Elias? From the old neighborhood?"