The taxi man

He arrived, opened the boot of the car. I asked if he was the taxi-man. He did not get it. Then I said it – You are the taxi driver, aren’t you?. He said yes and approached me for my luggage. I looked into his deep brown eyes as he was taking the luggage from me and knew that I was safe with him. His car was clean and full of classical music. After a bit of chit-chat we stayed in silence that we shared all the way to the airport. He was kind and courteous in his good-byes and grateful for my small tip.

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