Taxi

The working day is no different from the previous ones. A stout man in a business suit gets into Azriel’s car and demands to drive him to the city center. - Drive faster! The cab driver presses the pedal harder. - Faster! I’m late! - You have a business meeting? - Yeah, what’s in it for you? - I’m just curious. You must be a businessman. - I am. - What kind of business? - Textiles. - I see. Are you a director? - Yes. - Do you earn a lot? - Certainly more than you do. - That’s understandable. A cab driver can’t earn that much. The man took a greasy sandwich out of his briefcase and started eating it, not caring about the crumbs falling on the seat. - You’re getting the car dirty. - So what? I’m rich, you can’t do anything to me. - That rich? - Sure. Who’s going to stop me from stealing from the factory? - Don’t you feel sorry for the common laborers? - Why should I feel sorry for them? As long as they work, their welfare is not my problem. They’re paid. - At least above the subsistence level? - Well, a little… Why do they need a lot? They live well enough. They work, they go home. Although, maybe if I increase the working hours, they’ll live in a factory, huh. - You’re cruel. - I can afford it. Why do you let yourself talk to me anyway? We drove the rest of the way in silence. - We arrived. The man got out, tossing some papers carelessly to the driver.