Lisa couldn’t see through the taxi’s smudged windowpane. Smog, that wretched gray dome, overwhelmed the sky, smothering thoughts and concerns. Instead, she turned to Jeff, the cousin she just met.
“Weather sucks,” Jeff said.
She laughed nervously, too polite to agree.
The taxi pounded through ragged streets toward Jeff’s rental apartment.
Only 18, Lisa thought, and kicked out by parents refusing to support a high school dropout. How could he survive? Hiding maternal worry, Lisa pushed the question beneath the car mat, where it rotted and bloated in silence.
The taxi stopped.
“See ya,” Jeff said.
Her smile ached. “See ya.”
