100 Theme Challenge #64

64. Unseen

This had been a quiet day. No, scratch that, a shitty day. It had been raining all day long, accompanied by fog, and now it was snowing. The streets were slushy and brown and disgusting, and no customer wanted to walk through that to get into his taxi. He was doomed to smoke cigarette after cigarette in his lonesome car until the end of his shift. He didn't really care, most of the customers were pricks anyway and never gave him a decent tip. Was he supposed to sing for them to get extra cash or what? Sanso had been driving a taxi for a few months now, and he still wasn't accustomed to the long faces of almost everybody. People seemed sad or angry almost all the time, barking their destination and yelling at him when they were stuck in traffic. As if he was responsible for it. They held a grudge about everything, always whining to him about their job, their friends, their love life. Why couldn't they just shut up and be happy for what they had? Sanso had lost his family a few years ago, during a bombing in his hometown. His country was in war, and he had been forced out of his country for his own protection; because it wasn't safe for him to walk down the street anymore. The sound of his parents screaming for their life as he was hidden in a cache under the floor, the smell of their burnt flesh; the memory of their death was burned in his mind forever. He knew what Death looked like, and he didn't fear it anymore.

He exhaled loudly, annoyed by a truck driver who didn't seem to know how to drive properly and almost crashed into him. He threw his cigarette butt by the window and almost hit his head against the roof of the car when one of the back doors opened.

"Hi, we'd like to go to the mall on Addam's Street," said the woman, a pretty blonde with pale eyes. The man beside her stayed silent, visibly fuming over something.

"Sure thing." It was a ten-minute drive at least, if they got lucky and weren't stuck in traffic. He kept an eye on the couple as he started the car. They were normal-looking, but Sanso felt that something was wrong about them. It was still snowing outside, and yet there wasn't any trace of it on their coat. Maybe they were coming from somewhere, but Sanso had been parked near an intersection leading to the highway, and the closest building was at least a two-minute walk. He knew when to keep his mouth shut though, and visibly these two weren't up to chat with the taxi driver tonight. Now, he also knew not to pry on someone else's conversation, but sometimes you couldn't help but perk up an ear, especially at what the woman said.

"You almost killed the man. I thought you were better than that," she accused the man, but there was hurt in her voice too.

"And you should know better. I am not a good person, I don't need an excuse to kill people," he hissed between his teeth. Sanso almost hit the car before him, but he successfully kept a poker face while he pressed on the brake just in time.

The woman scoffed. "And then what? In the middle of the restaurant? You know how He feels about whipping people's memory after such useless incidents."

Okay, maybe he'd go a bit faster this time. They were already halfway through the couple's destination. He wasn't liking what he could hear, not one bit.

"But it's fun," hushed the man, and Sanso saw through the rear-view mirror he leaned towards the woman. He said something else that made the woman giggle, but the driver didn't hear it, which was almost for the better. They began to kiss and to grope each other on the back seat, and Sanso sighed inwardly. He didn't know if he was supposed to be scared of disgusted at the moment. He cleared his throat.

"We're here," he said politely, and the man paid in cash. They both got out, but he gasped when he turned his head and saw the man leaning against his window, his face way too close for his comfort.

"Now, Sanso..."

Sanso blinked and looked around. What was he doing in this street? He didn't even remember driving here. He grumbled and looked for his pack of cigarettes, wondering if he was becoming crazy, when he noticed the fifty-dollar bill neatly tucked in his shirt pocket.

(What is 100TC?)