The New York Cabbie

Stories From My Mind

Muhammad sat in his cab on 161st Street a few blocks from Yankee Stadium.  It was a crisp late spring afternoon and he had his windows down, heat turned on and the radio tuned to the Yankees game.  He had embraced his new country, escaping the tyranny of Iran in 2005, and had made many new friends at the cab company.  Sure, some people didn’t like him because he wore a turban and looked Arab, but most were accepting of him.  Across the street he noticed a homeless lady with a paper coffee cup sitting on the sidewalk next to her.  At least she looked homeless.  You never can tell with people these days.  She could live quite comfortably for all he knew.  He hated dishonest people.  He looked up the street and about a block away saw a kid weaving in and out of people on his skateboard.  Damn…

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