Ted stared out of the taxi's window, peering across bustling streets and the dense traffic that led towards a narrow intersection. It was almost 6:30 in the evening, which was his usual time of dread where he'd receive multiple missed calls and text messages from his wife, Rose, all evidently asking for his current whereabouts. He'd wish to turn off the damn thing, but then it would only increase the woman's aggravation which certainly won't give him a pleasant experience once he'd hit home. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Lately, he found sleep to be elusive. It was the third day since the case was appointed to him and being called out at unforgiving hours to work has never been so miserable than what he'd expect. He hoped the following week would be able to compensate, but given the precinct's hastiness, he'd half expect that nothing was to change.

Tapping the case folder sitting on his lap, he noticed there was no progress with the traffic ahead. An exasperated sigh acknowledged the situation, though he'd wish he could do something about it. He took a quick peek at the driver, silently observing out of boredom. He would consider on playing some games on his phone or proof-reading some of the case's victim files, but he'd ask for something more interesting. Luckily Uber's services had improved effectively, not like before when it would take an eternity before a driver accepted one's call from their impeccable app. Words were stringing in his head, about to usher in a conversation when his phone rang.

He grabbed the device, swiped a finger across its screen and prepared for the worst. Supposedly, he shouldn't answer it, but he established a rule to himself to acknowledge every 5th call his wife would make just to calm the woman. This time it was now the twentieth, and it was not going to sound pleasant. With a few unbearable screeching and unintelligible blabber, he finally got to where the call was going and, as usual, Rose was asking where he was. Being stuck in traffic has always been the template of response which someone would believe only when it would be said first, but when it became a repetitious reason, even if it was truly the situation being faced, doubt was to follow afterwards. Rose always believed the importance of family dinners, and Ted appreciated that. Sometimes he just wished she'd understand.

Exhausted, he hung his head low, breathing laboriously but making it less noticeable to the driver. He needed a vacation, and that was what he would plan to ask should the case be resolved. He glanced back at the window and hoped the traffic would make at least some progress within the next few minutes. He squinted at the driver's windshield, suspecting a Toyota ahead of them with a slightly open trunk and a dead left tail light which appeared to be not working from the looks of it. He'd be interested to intervene whoever was driving the car but it felt somewhat tedious to venture outside with the horde of vehicles lining up to cross the intersection.

Finally the words lost by the sudden phone call had made their way back into Ted's thoughts. He brushed a hand to his hair, casually trying to retain his formality even though he assumed the driver was focused on the what was ahead.

"Jesus, it's been almost thirty minutes and it's like we haven't even moved an inch. Don't you agree?" Ted asked, though he wished he could've said it elegantly rather than for the sake of starting up a conversation. "I mean, yeah, it's kind of okay if you don't have at least twenty missed calls from your wife asking where you are because she's so religious with the family dinner thing," He paused, chuckling in the process. "but whatever, I guess this is just the way of life."

He glanced up to the rear-view mirror, catching a reflection of himself with his usual attire.

"How about you? how's life been to you lately? I hope there weren't any break-ups. My son just had his a week ago and boy, I had to counsel him for four days straight about how he should move on. At first, it does sound like a joke when you think about it but when you actually do it, it becomes way more serious."

Brian leaned back in his seat as he waited for the cars to start moving again, tapping his fingers on steering wheel impatiently. This darned traffic. His lips were downturned, frowning, and his brows were furrowed with annoyance. He looked at the rows and rows of cars in front of him. He knew without looking that there were a lot more cars waiting behind him. Waiting for half an hour in traffic was already torturous, and he had to endure this on most days. He couldn't even look at his phone whenever he had a passenger and a good number of them had no interest in making small talk. And the more traffic, the fewer passengers he would be able to take in a day.

He bit back a sigh. They either needed a better traffic system or there are just too many cars in the city these days. He glanced at his watch. A few more hours before the end of his shift. He couldn't wait. All this waiting around in traffic is just boring. He looked around for something interesting to look at because there's nothing else to do. His passenger at the back seemed quite busy with how his phone had been ringing for a while now and didn't seem the type to talk to people like him.

His eyes scanned from the lights coming from the buildings and lamp posts to the various billboards and advertisements posted on the walls. Nothing new. He does this almost every day when he's bored out of his mind and he can't do anything else whenever he has a passenger (or else they might just send a complaint to his boss about not being attentive and cautious, and then bam, fired). He spotted a broken tail light on one of the cars in front of him. He should be fixing that, Brian thought. Safety and all. He could see a couple of teenagers fighting on the sidewalk, though nobody had tried to stop them yet. He could also hear people complaining and yelling and honking their horns about the horrible traffic while shaking their fists outside their windows. Like that would do anything.

The man in the backseat finally answered the call, it seemed. The ringing that had been grating on his nerves stopped. Even though he knew it was a bad thing to eavesdrop, he did so anyway, not finding anything else to do. He did this frequently (not that he would admit it). He would listen in on conversations and make some guesses at they are talking about, where they would be going and why, or maybe what they do for a living. It passes the time and he has gotten different and interesting kinds of people as passengers so it became a hobby. Plus, it kind of keeps his brain sharp. God knows that his brain would melt and turn to mush from being in traffic all day and doing nothing.

So he listened. Not that the man said a lot beyond "Hmm", "Yes dear", and "Don't worry", but when paired with the exhaustion and exasperation he could hear in his voice as he tried to reassure what was probably his wife on the phone, Brian could tell that he's got the wife problems, as he calls it. He's had many passengers with the same problem. He ended up having to comfort a few of them as they sulked, moaned, and even sobbed in misery. And he could somehow relate to it. He did just go through a breakup. His girlfriend had sent him a text a couple weeks ago. Written on it was a simple "I'm sorry" and he never heard from her again. He tried calling and texting her a few times, but she never responded to any of them so he assumed that meant that they were over, which he still wasn't over with, to be honest. They lasted for more than a year, and it was sad for a relationship that long to break as easily as that.

As the man ended the call, silence settled inside the car until the man broke it, asking him a question. Brian was startled by the sudden question at him as he didn't peg the man as the talkative type. He turned his head to the back to look at the man. "Traffic here is slowly getting worse. It's crazy. And maybe your wife's just worried about you and wants to spend some quality time with you, but I really wouldn't know," he told him. He gave him a somber smile. "And funny that you asked that. I did just go through a break-up a few weeks ago. Been together for more than a year, then only left me with a text saying that she's sorry and I never heard from her again." He actually sighed now, the conversation making him recall the fun times they had. He missed her greatly. He thought they had clicked well with each other and they never had a problem that wasn't resolved after a while. He just didn't know where he had gone wrong.

"But let's not talk about that." He gave a smile. Then in his peripheral vision, he saw the cars start to move. "Sorry. Wait-" He turned back front. Turns out that it only moved by a few inches. "Man," he muttered. He wanted to bang his head on something. He'd probably do it if there wasn't anybody to see him doing so. "How about you, sir?" He turned his head back to the backseats.