The Driver

The red Jaguar speeds up to the curb, narrowly missing my foot. I open the back door on the passenger side, to assist the student in getting out of the car.

“Good morning”, I utter.

I glance at the driver, who adjusts his leather gloves and merely grunts at me. The child scuttles out of the back seat.

“Have a good day!”

He doesn’t directly acknowledge me, but there’s enough of a pause to let me know that he heard me. He just chose not to reciprocate the sentiment.

I take my cue to close the door, and he speeds away from the curb, to whatever life he leads that’s more important than I can probably imagine. At least in his mind.