“Girl, you want tissue?”
The taxi driver said the words and waited. He snuck a look at his passenger through the rear-view mirror. His passenger did not reply. She looked about thirty. But as she sobbed, she appeared younger. Like a child.
She had been composed when she first boarded his taxi. Gave instructions on where she wanted to be driven to. She broke down at the first traffic light they crossed.
He wondered what had broken her heart, but he was old enough to know not to ask. The air conditioning in the taxi was cold, but the sunlight warmed his hands. The pedestrians crossed the road as the traffic light prepared to turn green. The world continuing on its way. Unaware of the woman whose heart was broken in his back seat.
She handed him a ten-dollar bill when they arrived at her destination. She had stopped crying but there were still tears on her face. Tears that snaked black mascara down her cheeks.
He passed her change. A half-used packet of tissue. She bit her lip, looked him in the eye and nodded. She exited the taxi. The door held open by a new passenger.