Taxi -

"That’s Sarah," the driver said. "She’s celebrating her first birthday without her father. He used to drive this cab."

It wasn't a business card. It was a faded photograph of a younger version of the driver, holding a baby girl in front of that very bakery. "That’s Sarah," the driver said

The car turned down a street Elias didn’t recognize—a narrow cobblestone alley lined with shops that looked decades out of date. Before Elias could protest, the taxi slowed to a crawl. Outside the window was a small, brightly lit bakery. Through the glass, Elias saw a woman sitting alone at a table, a single cupcake with a candle in front of her. She looked devastated. It was a faded photograph of a younger

"Go on," the driver urged. "She’s waiting for a sign that she’s not alone." Outside the window was a small, brightly lit bakery

They talked for hours. By the time they walked out together, the rain had stopped. Elias looked toward the curb, but the yellow cab was gone. Only a small, peppermint-scented card lay on the ground where the car had been parked.