PIPER
I leave the hospital and take a taxi straight to the airport. The driver is a young guy with shaggy blond hair and a wispy goatee. "Are ya picking someone up?"
I blink away from the blur of buildings and people passing by the window. His brown eyes are framed in the rearview mirror. "What?"
"Are you picking someone up?" he repeats. "If you are, I can wait and drive you both wherever you're going."
I'm not sure if he's too young to realize that would be a terrible business decision for him or if he's trying to hit on me. I don't need to check my reflection to know I look haggard. My guess is it's the former.
It also occurs to me: I don't have any luggage. I forgot that detail in my rush to save lives.
"Thanks, but I'm actually catching a flight."
"You don't have any bags, though." He echoes my thoughts out loud, which is more irritating than it should be.
