He asked how my walk home was going. I told him I called a cab so I wouldn't get hurt walking. He made a strange noise. He started telling me a story about a man who had just broken up with his wife. And how this man went to the bar before work. Two shots and five beers later he left the pub for work. He told me about how this man could hold his drink well most of the time. But with his wife being a whore and all, he wasn't doing so well. Now this man was a danger to himself and everyone around him.
I asked him what this sorry man did for a living. "Oh, he's a cab driver. He's driving you home. But in about a minute and a half he'll go 40 points over the Speed limit and rear end a wall. You'll die on impact and he will get two broken arms. He won't be able to live with the pain and the fact that he killed a beautiful young woman. He will take his life a yer later. Your family will go to his wake. They never blamed him for anything. You will be missed. I'll see you in 30 seconds. Bye."
I put down my phone and got out my smokes. Lit one, ad had a nice long drag. I looked at the driver. He did look drunk. Shit. Death wants me, and I'm alright with that. No matter what I did, Father Time and Mister Death were gonna get me.
