Malone

“Do you have any bags, ma’am?” the taxi driver asks as he picks me up outside the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport.

“No, nothing.” I shake my head, wiping the tears that just won’t stop coming from under my eyes. “I just need to go to this address.” I fire off the address I didn’t get the first time I was here. The one I blatantly stole from my boss at the charity. 

The man gives me a double-take, like he knows where he’s taking ...