CHAPTER 87
MARA’S POV
My head hurt. My eyes burned. My throat had dried up. And what last strength I had had been seeped away with my tears.
The cab driver, noticing my mood–if my tear-streaked face wasn't enough–put on the radio, tuning to a channel that played slow jazz. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and nodded to the rhythm of the song. Occasionally, he would glance at me from the rearview mirror and would try to start conversations, but I just paid deaf ears to him and the music.
When we finally arrived at my destination, he turned off the music and turned fully to me, watching as I searched my purse for some change.
“Care to talk?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was high-pitched, calmer than I'd expected it to be.
I looked up to see him smiling,
