The Girl in the Taxicab

For the dreamers who are always in a constant state of adventure, if only in their heads.

***

Mae stretched her neck, her chin forward to the sky, allowing the late afternoon sun to soak her face. She inhaled the rich atmosphere of the busy city with its rush of people on the sidewalks, aromas wafting from food kiosks amidst the bombardment of color and sound that was a near-constant assault. She would miss Tokyo, but her two weeks of lone self-adventure had come to an end. It was time to leave Japan.

She wheeled her standard carry-on behind her and felt fortunate to spot a waiting yellow taxicab, its telltale horizontal red stripe along the sides and plastic light on top. The beacon wasn’t lit, but it wouldn’t be the first time Mae had charmed a driver off their cigarette break and got on her way.

Mae threw open the door and tossed her luggage on the seat. A driver was indeed sitting idle, but the air in the car was charged, and the black leather gloves gripping the wheel flexed impatiently.

A sharp voice gave a less than subtle, verbal hiss. “Dete ike.”

Mae cleared her throat and shifted forward. She didn’t want to get out. She’d picked up a few words and phrases during her stay, and although most people she encountered appreciated her effort, her language skills were shoddy at best. “Gomen nasai. Nihongo ga wakarimasen.”

The driver turned around, painted eyes...