Most people respected the sign. Those who didn’t learned quickly that Christy had a way of reaching back and turning off their Bluetooth speaker without looking.
The woman hesitated, then smiled—small and fragile, like a crack in a dam. “Thank you, Christy.” christy marks taxi
And somewhere in the backseat, on the floor mat where the young woman had been sitting, a single silver earring glinted in the passing streetlights—a small, forgotten thing. Christy would find it the next morning, and she’d put it in the glove compartment with all the others: a tiny museum of people who had passed through her cab, each one a story she would carry, just in case they ever came back looking for what they’d left behind. Most people respected the sign
“You remember my name?”