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TRANSMISSION_ID: THE_TAXI_TALE
STATUS: DECRYPTED

The Taxi Tale

by Anastasia Chrome|2 min read|
"Amina takes the same taxi every Friday night to visit her mother. When driver Imran starts recognizing her route, their weekly conversations become the highlight of both their weeks."

The Taxi Tale

"Same place as usual?"

Amina climbed into the black cab. Imran—her regular Friday driver—was smiling at her in the mirror.

"You remember."

"Every week for two years. I'd be a bad cabbie not to." He pulled into traffic. "Good visit last week?"

"Mum made biryani."

"Lucky. My mother lives in Karachi. I'd kill for home cooking."


The Friday rides became something to look forward to—forty-five minutes of conversation that felt more intimate than most dinners.

"Why taxi driving?" Amina asked.

"Flexible hours. Good money. I meet interesting people." He glanced in the mirror. "Present company especially."

"That's flirting."

"That's truth." He didn't deny it. "Am I out of line?"

"No." She smiled. "Not even a little."


He asked to drive her somewhere that wasn't her mother's—somewhere they could talk without meters running.

"Dinner," Imran said. "Proper restaurant. My treat."

"That's not—you work hard for your money."

"And I want to spend it on someone worth it." He parked the cab. "Please, Amina."


Dinner led to his flat—modest, clean, filled with photos of home.

"I miss Pakistan," he admitted. "But here I have opportunity. And now..."

"Now?"

"Now I have you." He took her hand. "If you'll have me."

She kissed him instead of answering.

He made love to her with the attentiveness of a man who'd spent years learning to read people.

"Meri jaan," Imran breathed. "Best fare I ever picked up."

"Cheesy."

"Accurate." He grinned. "Let me keep driving you. Forever."


"My mother will approve," Amina said afterward. "She asks about you every week."

"You've mentioned me?"

"The kind driver who always knows my route." She smiled. "She already loves you."

"Then let me earn it. Properly." He held her close. "Say yes, Amina."


The wedding car was his taxi—decorated with flowers.

She still visited her mother every Friday.

He still drove.

Best route either of them ever took.

End Transmission