Taxi Instant

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The car turned down a street Elias didn’t recognize—a narrow cobblestone alley lined with shops that looked decades out of date.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. Elias felt a pull he couldn’t explain

They talked for hours. By the time they walked out together, the rain had stopped. Elias looked toward the curb, but the yellow cab was gone. Only a small, peppermint-scented card lay on the ground where the car had been parked. "Elias

"That’s Sarah," the driver said. "She’s celebrating her first birthday without her father. He used to drive this cab." Outside the window was a small, brightly lit bakery

Elias looked at the driver, then back at the woman. A strange feeling of recognition washed over him. He remembered this bakery from his childhood; he hadn't been here in twenty years.

The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the neon signs of the city into long, glowing streaks of red and blue. Elias pulled his collar up, shivering. He had just finished a double shift at the library, and all he wanted was his bed. But the buses had stopped running an hour ago.

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.