She was already late when she reached the gate.
Rain had started.
Her bag was open, her umbrella was somewhere inside it, and the auto she had booked was waiting at the end of the lane.
She waved.
The driver nodded.
Then she remembered the medicine.
“Sir, one minute.”
She ran back upstairs.
One minute became ten.
Ten became fifteen.
When she returned, the driver was still there.
“You could have gone,” she said.
He smiled.
“It’s raining.”
“I know.”
“So you need the auto.”
She got in.
He drove quietly.
Halfway there she noticed the meter was still off.
“Sir, why?”
“You said one minute.”
She laughed.
“I was fifteen minutes.”
“Then fifteen minutes.”
At the hospital, she paid him.
He gave back part of the money.
“Too much.”
“You waited.”
He shook his head.
“Next time.”
She didn’t understand.
Months later, she booked another auto.
Same driver.
Same lane.
Same small smile.
“Hospital?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He started the meter.
At the signal, he said, “Last time your mother was with you.”
She looked up.
He remembered.
That was all.
At the hospital gate, she got out.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
“Take care.”
She stood there for a moment after he left.
There are people who know your life only through the places they drive you to.
Sometimes, they remember more than you expect.
Read this when a small ordinary thing suddenly brings someone back to you.
