“I can’t believe how much this place has grown,” Hazel muttered. The taxi driver grinned in the rearview mirror. “Been a long time since you visited, miss?”“About seventy years,” Hazel said. The driver slid the glass partition closed and drove on in silence.”
“Leo,” Hazel gasped, “I can’t—my arms—”“Hazel,” he said. “Do you trust me?”“No!”“Me neither,” Leo admitted.”
“Mr William, he said, in my life six times have I crashed, and on not one occasion have I ever been killed.( Bevinda Singh taxi driver from City of Djinns”
“New York Taxi Rules:1. Driver speaks no English.2. Driver just got here two days ago from someplace like Segal.3. Driver hates you.”
“I don't know what I believe, Hazel. I thought being an adult meant knowing what you believe, but that has not been my experience.”
“All drivers run red lights the same way—with a glance in the rearview mirror to see if a cop saw them. I love the same way—with a sense of defiance, urgency, emergency, and caution that comes too late.”