A blog that was supposed be made up of bits about cab rides and blurbs about beauty products but, instead, is about other things.



IJ slid in.
Then MF.
Then me.
"Wait," she said. Panicked.
"There's a backpack in here."
"There's a backpack in here," she repeated.
And I realized that I was expecting her to say "rucksack," or something equally British.
But she didn't.
"There's a backpack in here," she said.
(As if it were a bomb.)
And we repeated to the driver who seemed confused, but then not so, as he backed up, off of the street, into the gas station.
And we hurried into another cab.
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