A Talkative Cab Ride to Shore

The driver talked the entire way to the shore, seemingly unable to keep his mouth

closed. He blabbered on and on about how shitty the weather was,

how hard his life was and, his favorite topic, how weird I am. He said that I’m

way too thin, my eyes look weird, my fingers move way too smoothly and that catching

a cab to a distant shore at 6 a. m. is unusual; he asked me if I was a photographer

and then started warning me against taking my own life. I ignored him, silently begging

anybody, anything to finally shut him up, but he only stopped when we reached

our destination.