The Man of Her Dreams

Virtually every New Yorker believes that the worse the weather, the harder it is to get a cab. Tonight was bitter cold, and the only taxis Esther saw had their “Off Duty” signs lit. She had just about decided to walk the two long blocks to the subway station when she heard a car horn honking.

The driver pulled over to the curb and rolled down his window. He looked familiar.

“Esther, right? You were at the party.”


“It’s me, Artie Finger. I’m a friend of the lady who gave the party.”

“OK.” She wondered who would ever want to be named Artie Finger?

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)