It was about 12:15 on a warm Thursday night in August. I drove my cab down the street, humming to the tune on the radio as I aproached my detination.
By the time I reached the Sheriton, it had started raining. The windshield wipers slid back and forth in front of my face as the door opened and two passangers climbed in.
"236 Spruce Street please," said the gentleman.
"Sure thing buddy." I spat out my usual reply as I began driving and listening to the conversation unfolding in the back seat.
"It just didn't seem so wrong when I said it," the gentleman noted to his companion. She just looked at him, her eyebrows raised and her mouth shut.
"Well, ok, I shouldn't have insulted his intelligence, but he was asking for it."
"Tom, he was just being overly friendly. He didn't want to ignore me."
"Look, a wave or a casual hello is being friendly. Walking up and giving you a back massage could be meant as more than that."
"Oh, don't get upset about it. You know there's nothing between Jim and me any more."
"Which is exactly why it isn't completely appropriate to touch you like that."
"Well, I guess you only over-reacted a little," she said as she took a hold of his hand. They just sat there and looked at each other.
I watched them just staring at each other for a second in the rear view mirror. I watched so intently, I almost didn't notice the red light we'd come to and had to stop short. The sudden change in motion made my pasangers jolt forward slightly.
"Sorry 'bout that," I shouted to the back seat.
"It's alright," they mummbled and then restarted their conversation.
"I'm sorry. It's just the way that he acts and the way that he speaks to me. I just don't get along with him."
"I know you don't particularly care for him. Maybe if you were a bit more civil to him, things would work better. I mean, he is still a friend of mine."
"You're right. I'll try to behave better next time."
"Thanks," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed cuddled that way, silent, for the remainder of the ride."