Taxi

A middle-aged woman gets into Azriel’s car and asks to be taken to the hospital. - Are you sick? - No. My father. He’s old and he needs blood for an operation. I’ve decided to become a donor. - That’s noble! - Thank you. - Do you spend a lot of time with him? - No, we haven’t talked much lately. The cabbie’s driving slower. - What’s the reason? - My parents divorced when I was a kid. I stayed with my mom. She wouldn’t let me talk to my dad. And he moved to another city. - I see. You’ve had a hard life. - Not many people know that. - But why did you decide to save your father? - I love him. Even though he didn’t bring me many good memories, he’s my father, and I have to take care of him. Asriel pressed down harder on the pedal. - Is your mother alive? - No. She died a couple years ago. - I’m sorry. - I’m used to it. - How much do you want to donate? - 450 ml. - Maximum? - He needs a lot of blood. It might not even be enough. - That’s terrible. - I hope he pulls through. - Well, here we are. Goodbye. Good luck. - Thank you. Here you go. And the woman walked toward the hospital entrance.