Night Taxi Cab

(revised)
She took as many things with her as she could manage in the rush, even the extra pair of tennis shoes that were usually left at his apartment. At the time that she was stepping out the door, she glanced and saw those dirty shoes, used for running on wet days, sitting there pathetically. A false sense of pity for them welled up in her and with her two free fingers they were swiftly snagged with one finger in each shoe. It was stupid to take so much with her. Near as she could figure, she wouldn’t be coming back again, so she took with her the socks left in his closet, a hairdryer and curling iron from his bathroom, and a few shirts from a pile on his bedroom floor while he slept. The shoes were her last impulsive grab, and a bad one at that.

A lethargic growl from the door in front announced her arrival onto the stoop of his apartment. Autumn was in the air, she could feel it in a cool gush as she stood there with her arms full of shit that she would never miss. The taxi cab she had dialed with secret, shaky fingers while alone in his dark kitchen would be pulling up soon. As she waited for it, remembering the first time in front of his robust apartment was easy. Him, standing there, top of the steps, all proud, handsome; waving his hands, urging her to come in. Now, she was leaving it for good and he wouldn’t know it until the following morning.

The night taxi cab pulled up, followed by an opaque cloud of vapor from the cool night air. She opened the door, released the things from her arms onto the seat, and stepped in. Staring at that mangled pile of her own stuff during the drive across town only reminded her of him; where they were when she was wearing those shirts; the time they made a last minute trip to the department store to buy the hairdryer after forgetting hers from home. It occurred to her that everything reminded her of him, everything, except for those damn shoes. It was those rainy day runs that were her favorite companion, especially after fighting. The sound of her rhythmic steps on wet pavement assured her that she was worthwhile, a treasure to be treasured.

The night taxi cab slowly rolled to a stop in front of her place, it was about 4a.m. now and she was home. She paid the cab fare with a crispy twenty, took hold of her tennis shoes with the same two fingers, and stepped onto the boulevard. She watched the cab lumber away taking all of the memories of him and his apartment with it. The socks and shirts; the hairdryer and curling iron; the fighting; all of it taken away by the night taxi cab. While slipping her key into her front door, she looked again, over her shoulder, to make sure it was really gone. Upon seeing that it was, she sighed; shoes in hand; and smiled.