After I left Tom, I rented a house next to a cemetery. My mother offered to help me move. Standing in the gravel lot where I parked my car, she regarded the one-story clapboard partially hidden in ... [+]
"How are you doing?" I ask. But the driver must be lost in thought, because he says nothing. I see nothing but neatly combed dark hair, the outline of a cheek and the silhouette of an ear. I wait for a moment for his reply but hear nothing.
Oh well. I turn back to the window to watch the city melt past. Orange streetlights in and out of view. It has been a long day and I cannot recall the way home in this big city. It's a good thing I gave this driver my address. It's a good thing he can find the way.
My phone shakes and lights up. A new message from an unknown number.
"Hello," it says. "This is your Uber driver. I'm waiting out front."