Driving had not been the career she imagined when she was twenty.
Very little in her life had turned out the way twenty-year-old Tessa imagined.
She had studied hospitality management for two years, dropped out when tuition became impossible, worked restaurants, front desks, catering events, and eventually started driving because the hours gave her freedom.
The first year was supposed to be temporary.
Eleven years later, she had stopped explaining herself.
She liked movement.
She liked meeting people briefly.
There was something comforting about being allowed into a stranger’s life for twenty minutes and then watching that life disappear through a hotel door or apartment gate.
No obligations afterward.
No promises.
Just a destination.
Tessa had become very good at not asking questions people did not want answered.
That skill would matter several times before the day ended.
She dropped the first passenger near Haywood Road.
The man paid, added a generous tip, then leaned between the seats.
“Good luck with your employee.”
“He isn’t staying.”
The passenger looked at the cat.
The cat yawned.
“Sure.”
He got out.
Tessa remained at the curb.
Now came the responsible part.
She turned toward the cat.
“All right.”
The cat turned toward her.
“You and me.”
She opened the passenger door from outside.
“Out.”
Nothing.
Tessa snapped her fingers.
“Come on.”
The cat blinked.
“You cannot stay here.”
Still nothing.
She tried lifting him again.
The growl returned.
Tessa straightened.
She could call animal control.
She could drive to a shelter.
She could call dispatch and lose twenty minutes explaining why there was suddenly wildlife in vehicle seventeen.
Her tablet chimed.
NEXT FARE 4 MINUTES AWAY.
Tessa closed the passenger door.
“One more ride.”
She pointed at the cat.
“That is all.”
The cat licked one paw.
One ride became four.
The first passenger after the cat’s arrival was a young woman carrying a rolling suitcase and wearing headphones large enough to cover half her head.
She opened the rear door.
Then froze.
“Oh my God.”
Tessa already knew.
“Yes.”
“Is that a cat?”
“Yes.”
“In the taxi?”
“Yes.”
The woman leaned closer.
“Is he yours?”
“No.”
That answer made her laugh.
“What do you mean, no?”
“He got in.”
“And you just let him stay?”
“He disagreed with my removal strategy.”
The woman slowly climbed inside.
“This is amazing.”
She took three photographs before Tessa had pulled from the curb.
The cat turned his head and regarded the phone without interest.
“What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
“How long have you had him?”
“Twenty-three minutes.”
The woman stared.
Then laughed even harder.
By the time they reached the train station, she had taken nine photographs and one short video.
“This might be the best thing that happened to me all week.”
“You need a better week.”
“You have no idea.”
She paid and left.
The next passenger was a businessman named Thomas who wore a gray suit and had the exhausted expression of someone who had been reading emails since before sunrise.
He climbed into the back seat without looking forward.
Then he saw the cat.
He froze.
“There’s a cat.”
Tessa nodded.
“I’m aware.”
“In the front seat.”
“Also aware.”
Thomas looked between them.
“Why?”
“He refuses to resign.”