The hospital wasn’t where she was being treated; it was where she now worked. She thanked me for helping her when no one else would. I wanted to tell her that she had done the hard work herself, that all I had done was open a door she was strong enough to walk through.
Still, hearing how far she had come filled me with quiet pride. When we parted ways, I sat in my car for a long time, letting the engine idle. Taxi driving often felt like a job where faces blurred and stories passed like fleeting shadows.
But that day reminded me that small choices can echo far beyond a single night. I drove back onto the streets, rain beginning to fall again, and wondered who else might be standing under a dim light, waiting for someone to stop.
