Wesley Mattson Writes

“You drive motorbike in Vietnam?” asked the taxi driver with a grin that appeared genuine. If it wasn’t, Eric was impressed with the performance. “No, just taxi.” was all Eric could scrape up with a far less convincing smile in return. The driver laughed aloud in a way that actually resembled a ‘haha’ right from the belly.

“Scary, huh?”

Eric didn’t even notice that his smile this time was genuine. It’s a shame, because he would have tried to recreate it in the mirror that night.

 “No, uh, well yeah. I guess a little. I’m just not used to it.” 

‘Used to it’, what a dope. There was no way this taxi driver was going to understand that. His reaction confirmed Eric’s fears: a singular ‘ha’ with a tangible drop in feeling. And that was it. ‘I guess.’ He should have dropped it off at ‘I guess’. That would have gotten the real thing. What a tiny edit to change so much. Every color passed them in silence. 

“Arrived!” the driver exclaimed, reanimated. Eric’s old friend was back miraculously just in time for them to part ways forever. Think fast. “Cảm ơn” “Haha, dạ cảm ơn anh. Have a good trip.” The driver’s smile was about half capacity. Better than nothing.