[𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫]: Join Elena and Jake on journey around Los Angeles no one has seen so far, where they battle personal demons and emerge as a reunited cooperators. In a reunion marked by unraveling truths, they confront memories and face a myster...
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T̲H̲E̲ ̲W̲H̲O̲L̲E̲ ̲S̲T̲R̲E̲E̲T̲'̲S̲ ̲C̲L̲O̲A̲K̲E̲D̲ ̲I̲N̲ ̲D̲A̲R̲K̲N̲E̲S̲S̲ while I relaxed in the taxi, just watching it roll by through the window.
Tonight's absolutely stunning;
No rain tonight, not a single cloud to hide the sky, giving us a flawless view of the stars and the moon.
Looks like there's a full moon tonight, 'cause that big white orb in the sky is lighting up the streets like nobody's business—no need for street lamps tonight as well.
Funny enough, the streets are quiet as a mouse tonight too;
Scanning the streets from the taxi window, I rarely caught any sight of a few party animals stumbling around, barely able to keep their balance after a night of heavy drinking.
Not even a glimpse of whores along the curbs or near the clubs tonight;
Just a handful of cars on the road, cruising lazily past traffic lights and intersections alongside the taxi.
Quiet as a church mouse.
Almost eerie how quiet it is.
Suspiciously; too quiet.
"Spontaneous trip, huh?" — A deep, gravelly voice tinged with the roughness of cigarettes caught my attention.
Turning my head away from the window, I shifted my gaze straight ahead, focusing on the front of the car.
There's the taxi driver, with his hand gently gliding over the wheel, stealing a glance at me through the rearview mirror while we wait at the red light.
Around 30, probably a societal dropout, his only skill seems to be maneuvering the wheel, not much else going on upstairs—his IQ seemingly lower than a rock's.
Trust me, a quick glance can usually tell you if you're dealing with a total moron or someone who actually can add two to two.
And looking at him, I doubt he could even write the number two, let alone do any math with it.
To be honest, even my nose is casting doubts on his sobriety.
