I was alone in a taxi at 3 a.m. The driver kept silently making eye contact. When I arrived, I rushed out and into my building, climbing to my 8th-floor flat. Then, I heard footsteps behind me—it was the driver. Panicked, I started sprinting up the stairs, but he got closer. I turned, and to my horror, he… was holding something in his hand.
My heart nearly stopped. I thought the worst. “Please, just take what you want!” I cried out. He froze, panting from the run, eyes wide with concern. Then he lifted his hand and said, “Miss, you dropped your wallet.” I blinked, speechless. My hands trembled as he handed it to me — everything was inside: my ID, my cards, the little photo of my late dad. I had dropped it on the back seat.
