Taxi.

"TAXI!" She shouted, as a yellow cabbie whizzed past her.

Laura Maisie was her name, but I liked to call her "Ms. Maisie". She was at least a month and a half older than me, but for some reason, I liked the ring "Ms. Maisie" had in it. She had auburn hair, reaching past her shoulders, often shadowing her pale face. She had glasses perched up on her cute little nose, and it winced whenever she smiled.

"TAXI!" She shouted once again; the taxi had stopped, and the door opened up for her. "Thank you so much!" She greeted as she sat down, and closed the door.

"Where are you off to today, young lady?" The taxi-driver asked her, as he started the engine.

"Howrah Bridge, please! And could you hurry-up?" As the driver adjusted his rear-view mirror, he saw the look of anxiety on her face.

"As you wish ma'am."

The journey was long and winding, and she soon fell asleep. The roads were jam packed, and it was a hot and steamy day. Pressure built up in the taxi and it felt like it was cooking both the driver and Ms. Maisie like steamed rice.

"Here we are, ma'am! That would be 35 Rupees!" said the taxi-driver, wiping off the sweat from his forehead.

"Here's 50, keep the change." She replied, as she gave him a crsip Rs. 50 bill.

"Thank you for your generosity, ma'am. May the good Lord bless you abundantly." He said, kissing the bill.

And that was it. That was the last time any one would see Ms. Maisie. Her last act of generosity is still remembered, although it couldn't save her from jumping down the Howrah Bridge.

THE END