https://pixabay.com/es/photos/taxi-la-carretera-tr%c3%a1fico-vehiculos-238478/
I was driving a cab on the avenue of scandal. That day, two strange things happened to me: the endless line of cars that piled up on the lane did not move forward. Like the barking of caged dogs, the horns of the other cars sounded, complaining about the slowness of the movement. I had been in the traffic jam for half an hour and had only covered a few centimeters. I felt like I was going to lose the morning when the back door opened and without warning a woman got in as a passenger. Furthermore, I turned to look at her, she was covered with a black cloak that covered her from her hair to her ankle, her head remained low preventing me from detailing her face, she was holding a black box that rested on her legs. On top of the box I saw a tear fall from her face, she ran her hand over her eyes and then said:
"To the airport, please."
I returned my face to the steering wheel and notified her.
"Ma'am, because of the situation we are in, I cannot guarantee you will arrive at your destination without delay."
"Don't worry, my flight leaves in 5 hours." She replied
We were not moving anywhere, the traffic was still terrible, but there was an aura of sadness about her that I was unavoidable to ask.
"Is something wrong, ma'am?" she remained silent, yet I asked her another question.
"I've never seen anyone around here dressed like this, where are you from?"
With a somewhat aggressive tone of voice, she answered me:
"From the country of carpets, where everyone steps on us.
I could tell there was some frustration and anger in her, However, I told her.
"You know, bad times happen, whatever problem you have, that will pass, I assure you "
She kept silent, it seemed to me that my words annoyed her.
The traffic cleared, and I was able to get to the highway, I had forgotten the light conversation I had with her when she suddenly spoke.
"No, that's not going to happen."
"What's not going to happen?" I asked her.
"My problem. My problem will still exist. I'm getting married in a week...".
I interrupted her very cheerfully, "Congratulations."
Her tone of voice changed to a frightening one, "It's an arranged marriage, you sockpuppet."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied. She kept talking.
"After I get married, the problem will never go away, it will live with me forever." Her fingers tapped the box, making a sound like a horse galloping.
"Wow, what a problem. Don't get married." I retorted, looking at her hood through the rearview mirror.
"I wish I had that option, but I have no escape. It's a pact my family has, a commitment that can't be broken." She answered me quietly. I felt her temper calm down. Her words showed that she was a woman destined to be an ornament, that she would accompany a very powerful man.
"You speak as if she were a slave."
"Yes, something like that," she replied.
"And why don't you run away or stay here. In this country you can work at anything, there are thousands of opportunities."
The girl looked distractedly out the window and asked.
What could I do for a living?
"Well, here you can make ice cream to sell, you can be a teacher, if there is a way" I suggested.
Arriving at her destination, the girl replied.
"I find the simple life so encouraging, I could be happy even as a taxi driver".
Then the girl got out of the car and uncovered her face. Watching her was for me like watching a bud turn into a beautiful rose. Her beauty was incomparable, I couldn't even hide my impression, it was as if I had fallen into a state of hypnosis.
"Is there something wrong with you?" the girl asked me.
"Oh no, just seeing her reminded me of an old story.
As an excuse to postpone her destiny a little longer, she replied, shrugging her shoulders.
"Well, I'm not in a hurry, it's still early". She opened the front door and went back to the car. I smiled a little and told her:
"I once heard about a god who commissioned angels to take care of men and women, but they saw beautiful women and fell in love with them. So they could not return to heaven and were condemned. For a while I thought how foolish they had been, to give up glory for a being who would not endure before their eternity. But the sight of you has made me pity them now, poor angels.
I was silent for a moment and added: "If they, who are perfect beings, succumbed to your beauty, how much more I, who am an imperfect man.
He looked at me without making any kind of expression and broke the silence.
"By god I'm tired of hearing things like that, let me drive the cab for a while".
She who didn't even know my name asked me to lend her my car, obviously I told her.
"I can't let you drive, you have to have a license for this".
Her eyes got narrowed and she ended up saying
She looked at me without making any kind of expression and broke the silence.
"By god I'm tired of hearing things like that, let me drive the cab for a while".
Her eyes got narrowed and she ended up saying
"You told me you had succumbed to me, you're a liar".
I took her for a while to eat ice cream, and while I was doing, so I asked her.
"What's wrong with the man you're marrying?"
"I don't know him, slave women don't object, I don't want to think about that now, take me somewhere else."
I was able to take her to other places, but what was supposed to be 5 hours of waiting turned into many hours more, in the end she decided to go to the airport where several escorts were waiting for her.
At one point she stopped, standing between her escorts. Then she came back to me, checking her wallet, digging through it to pay me for the service.
What little I could learn about her was that she didn't like to be objected to. So I held out my hand to receive the money. Seeing my intentions, she got angry and hit me repeatedly, then stopped to kiss me on the cheeks and, without another word, left for her plane.
The turbines of the plane announced her departure, while I, leaning on a table, thought that I could never know her name. I looked at the black coffee and remembered the color of her hair. Sitting in front of me a man was reading a magazine, on the cover I noticed the familiar face of a woman and as I looked at her in detail I realized that she was the slave. I took the magazine from her hand and confirmed that it was her and her name was written there. Grand wedding between the King of Nidaz, and the Princess of Silver, Amalia.
I saw again the airplane of the princess who thought she was a slave, lost in the darkness of the dark night.