Taxi Driver

Norm knew that face better than anyone: round, brown eyes, cute dimples, and a wide smile. His new fare looked just like Sofia.
He snuck looks at her while navigating across downtown. His heart lurched when she told him to drive to the west side of town. She caught him staring at her in the rearview while at a stop sign.
“Sorry. You look so much like my daughter,” Norm said.
The young woman smiled. Her teeth were straighter than the crooked smile he knew. “What’s her name?”
“Sofia,” he said. His weary response hit like a bag of bricks. Norm focused on the road. He always drove with his window open, welcoming the city's sounds. The sirens, honks, and yells yanked him out of grief, usually.
The woman noticed Norm’s tense shoulders and tight grip on the wheel.

“How long have you been a taxi driver?”
“Three years. I owned a burger spot before this.”

“Why did you stop?”
“It burned down,” he said with a trailing tone.

Her eyes grew wide just like Sofia’s used to when he would surprise her. Their flowery fragrances sometimes snuck into his mind when he drove.
The taxi sat at the woman’s stop. She paid and said goodbye. Norm waved and drove a block before pulling over. A dull pain swept across him as he looked at the burned lot. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a crumpled picture. Holding it out towards the burned lot, he stared at it. In it were he and Sofia, smiling at the camera. Above them hung a sign reading “Norm’s Burgers” in bright red and blue. Now all he could smell was burnt wood, plastic, and hair. He could never forget their burnt hair smell.

BIO: Jameson Showers is a copywriter and aviation student based in Riverside, California. An eight-year veteran of the United States Army, he writes short stories and flash fiction that draw from his experiences and the speculative inner workings of his mind.