217 Babel Street | Apartment 7
Harry drove a taxi cab. Usually he worked the night shift, but this evening he'd been forced to stay in on account of his wife's sudden turn. Really, he should have called the doctor, but it was late in the day and last time he'd done this the doctor had been a bit angry, having found nothing seriously wrong. So tonight Harry had cleaned Margaret up as best he could, and made her comfortable. Now he read to her. Margaret liked crime novels best of all, especially those featuring the amateur detective Donna Townes. Harry soon lost his way in all the twists and turns of the plot, but his wife seemed to follow every move. She looked better now, her eyes brighter than before. Perhaps he would go out later on, after she'd fallen asleep. He could take the cab and pick up a few late night fares.
Harry liked being a taxi driver. He liked being his own boss, having his own car, being in charge of his own life. And you got to meet people. Sometimes there was trouble, of course, but he could handle drunken lads. Harry had been in security for a number of years. He could put on the manner. Trouble was, he was getting a bit old to be driving around all hours. But they needed the money, with Margaret's condition not getting any better, and the price of things these days. Even bread, the price of it.