excerpt
THE CUSTOMER
“Drive…”
Costa started the engine.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Drive,” the man repeated.
The same word echoed in the small space of the car when the customer burped an out-of-this-world stench of half-digested food, alcohol, and body odour, which brought a sudden and before-its-time asphyxia. Costa started driving around the block trying to locate a police car, which was never around when needed. Then he turned towards Howe Street, as if a revelation, Costa’s mind ran to where the solution to his problem was. Surely, he turned at the first corner and started heading south on Granville Bridge while the reflections of headlights on the wet asphalt blinded him; however, that was the least of his concerns, and although half asleep and inebriated, he raised his head occasionally and peeked out of the window. Again, he burped, adding to the driver’s breathing issues. Costa lit a cigarette; the smoke was better smelling than his foul mouth, and wishing to reaffirm where they were going, he asked again:
Manolis Aligizakis 