a long way from home ; g.d.

o n e

• her pov •
I stared out the window of the New York taxi cab, watching the rain drops race each other to the bottom of the window. My forehead was pressed against the glass, and the air coming out of my nose fogged it up when I breathed.

The faint house music coming from the radio in the front seat was somewhat calming, but not calming enough to drown out my overwhelming uneasiness. Are there seriously no other radio stations available?

The taxi came to a sudden stop, and the driver, whom I've been talking to for the past 30 minutes, turned around to face me, placing his hand on the back of the passenger seat.

"You sure you're gonna be okay on your own? My sister lives a few buildings away from here, and I know she'd let you crash at her place until you get back on your feet." We had somehow been able to keep a conversation going, even after the classic "where you from?" small talk. I can safely say he's my first friend in New York.

"Thanks Gus, but I should probably try to find a hotel. Know any cheap ones around here?"

"Not exactly. The Freemont is reasonably priced, but the staff is super rude. Want me to take you there?"

"Can you just give me the address? Or is it very far from here?"

"It's a few blocks away, the address is 413 Brooklyn Avenue. You might want to call first though, because they're always booked. Here, I'll write it down for you." He opened the glove box in front of the passenger seat and pulled out a small notebook and a very worn-down pencil, and began scribbling away.

"It's not as fancy as other hotels here, but it's the cheapest one around." He tore the piece out of the book and threw it back in the glove box, along with the pencil. He turned back around to face me, and handed me the slip of paper.

"Okay, I'll call and see if they have any rooms available. I have your number though, if they're all booked." I took the piece of torn notebook paper with his phone number on it that he had given to me about 15 minutes into our ride out of my jacket pocket, as if I was trying to prove that I still had it.

"Alright, well good luck. Call me if you need anything. Even if they're not all booked and you just miss ole' Gus."

I know I should probably be annoyed by him talking to me as though we've known each other for years, but I found it very relieving; to be treated normally for the first time in a while. It made me feel like even though I was alone, I still had the cute, blonde taxi-cab driver that made me feel a little more at home. "Got it, thanks Gus."

He gave me a smile before I opened the cab door, threw my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my other travel bag from beside me. The cold air hit me as soon as stepped out. I closed the door and waved at Gus as he drove away. I watched him drive all the way to the end of this street and turn to head towards another.

It didn't take long for me to snap back to reality.  I was alone, in a large city, with nothing but a couple of bags and the clothes I was wearing. I took a long, deep breath, in and out, before taking my dollar-store flip phone out of my pocket, and dialing the number he had wrote down for me.