Taxi -

Just as he was about to give up and start the long walk home, a yellow cab drifted out of the gloom like a ghost. Its "VACANT" sign flickered with a warm, steady light. Elias waved, and the car pulled over with a gentle hiss of tires on wet asphalt.

"That’s Sarah," the driver said. "She’s celebrating her first birthday without her father. He used to drive this cab." Just as he was about to give up

The car turned down a street Elias didn’t recognize—a narrow cobblestone alley lined with shops that looked decades out of date. Before Elias could protest, the taxi slowed to a crawl. Outside the window was a small, brightly lit bakery. Through the glass, Elias saw a woman sitting alone at a table, a single cupcake with a candle in front of her. She looked devastated. "That’s Sarah," the driver said

It wasn't a business card. It was a faded photograph of a younger version of the driver, holding a baby girl in front of that very bakery. Before Elias could protest, the taxi slowed to a crawl

Elias felt a pull he couldn’t explain. He stepped out of the taxi and walked into the bakery. When Sarah looked up and saw him, her eyes widened. "Elias? From the old neighborhood?"

The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes were kind but incredibly tired. "Most people think they choose their destination. But sometimes, the cab chooses for them."