The driver’s name
The girl thought it was outrageous that he was spying on her in the rear-view mirror. That man driving had a foul face. She thought he could have done with punch in the mouth, simply for his obscenity. But the car was clean and comfortable, so glancing at the pedestrian traffic and his face in the mirror, the journey came to an end.
The driver said: that’s twelve.
The girl looked for some small change. She didn’t mean to argue but she wanted to play for time, as she had enough of it that morning anyway. While she fiddling, she was surprised to see he had a wedding ring on his finger, she immediately thought about a false pretence.
The driver was irritated by the noise of the coins while his time as a taxi driver was slipping away uncontrollably.
Still twelve? Asked the girl.
Yes, of course.
I read 11.90.
No, it said twelve.
How can it have said twelve if it showed 11.90?
It said twelve, the driver repeated automatically.
The girl coolly darted away but before going, as if wanting to call him by name, said: 11.90 obscenity. Then she disappeared.
The driver said something in reply but the noise of the car door hushed his half-hearted moaning.