In cabs

Philadelphia is raining again. It starts every night a couple hours after dark and doesn’t end until early morning.  I watched the rain from inside a cushy cab to the bank. One of those creepy guys in their forties who always look nervous, was driving slowly down Washington ave.

“Oh I miss my wife.” He met his wife two years ago but they deported her to Albania a year after. This june was supposed to be their anniversary where he visited her in Europe, but his mother died and he had to stay in the U.S. this year. Do I work? He wants to know because HE works all day and night to get some money for his wife.

“She tells me that she loves me and she knows how men have….” he looks in the rear view mirror. “needs. so she says to me that I should go out and get a girl.” he laughs weakly as I watch the chinese food stores roll by. Wet people loitering around the laundromat held their heads to their shoes. Pacing.

I smile politely and the driver continues to tell me that he is a romantic. His wedding anniversary was now on  Valentines Day.

I finally re-appeared on Opal street where I found the jem house with the missing box.  I was lucky.

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