The woman stopped and pulled a long white cigarette out of her soulless black purse.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” she asked.
“No, of course not ma’am,” the cabby responded, grabbing a cigarette of his own from his faded plaid shirt pocket.
“After my great uncle passed, the house just rotted out there.” The woman exhaled the words through her teeth like a swirling bit of smoky death. “I think it might be time for a bit of closure.”
“I’m really sorry to hear about your uncle’s death…”
“He was a bastard,” she said matter of factly, cutting him short. She fidgeted as she took a long drag from her white cigarette, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Anyways, ma’am, I still can’t figure why you would want to come out here so late at night.”
The woman stared at his face through the rearview mirror, examining each eye with potent depth. She took the cigarette from her mouth and turned to look out at the inky black forest rushing by.