Your Driver Is Waiting

by Priya Guns

If those who have do not give, those who haven’t must take. a. sivanandan

Somehow, she believed life was more draining for her than it was for me.

Driving as many people around as I do has made me a clairvoyant for determining which couples are meant to be together, and which ones should just stop being. Love is blind, but I’m not.

There was a grime to the city, a spillage so toxic it smothered people that passed by. The air was far from fresh, but there we were, breathing in every bit of this manufactured life and asking for more. We couldn’t get enough. The city thrived on the dreams of the smothered.

It wasn’t a crime to spend money on things that made us happy, but most times that kind of money just wasn’t there.

People did all sorts of things to feel alive. They were big adult babies scavenging for life, for that sensation, you know, the one that makes you feel just right.

I’m not sure which is worse, being broke or being broken. Being both was definitely the worst, though.

“There’s no one to help anyone in this city, is there?” “It’s each one for themselves,” said the man, handing me my bag. “And that’s exactly how they want it.”

How do you know how to live when you’ve never been given the freedom to?

Hell was not a pit of fire. It was here, in the city, on the driveway, in my heart.

If Jolene was anything, she was the sun. Perfect at a distance, but up close, she could hurt my skin.

I said yes, because there really is no trouble in being happy. When you live, truly live, you let go. You try new things, and you learn about yourself. There’s no making mistakes.”

I was a woman who wasn’t going to take it anymore because I swear, I have taken so much already.

Jolene was a sharer, but she’d never fathom giving up all that allowed her to share.