Psychological
How my Uber driver became my soulmate
I’ve never been the kind of person who believed in love at first sight. Growing up, I thought soulmates were just another made-up concept by romance novelists or cheesy rom-coms. Sure, I enjoyed watching love stories on the screen, but they felt distant, like something that only happened to characters played by Emma Stone or Julia Roberts—not to regular people like me. Little did I know that one Friday afternoon, when I was running late for a friend’s engagement party, my world would change entirely.It all started with an Uber ride.I was running late—again. My best friend, Lizzy, was throwing an engagement party with her fiancé, and I had promised I’d be there early to help set up. Of course, "early" meant thirty minutes late by my standards. I ran out the door, balancing on one heel, with my other shoe still in hand, clutching my phone. There was no way I was going to drive. Parking downtown was a nightmare, and I didn’t trust my parallel parking skills under pressure. So, I did what any sane person would do. I ordered an Uber.The app told me my driver would be there in five minutes. Plenty of time, I thought, to fix my hair in the reflection of my phone. As I twisted my messy bun into something more presentable, I noticed the driver’s name pop up: Daniel. A simple name. One that didn’t give away too much. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. All I cared about was that he had a five-star rating, so I felt safe.A black sedan pulled up in front of my apartment building. “I hope this guy knows a shortcut,” I muttered under my breath as I climbed in, tossing my bag onto the seat beside me. I didn’t even look at him as I buckled my seatbelt. “Hi, Daniel. Can we take the quickest route? I’m kind of in a rush.”Then I finally glanced up at the rearview mirror—and I froze.There was something about his eyes. They were warm, a shade of hazel that seemed to reflect gold when the sunlight hit them just right. He had a smile that was both comforting and mischievous, like he knew something I didn’t.“Of course,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I know a few good shortcuts. Don't worry.”His voice was calm and rich, the kind of voice that made you feel like everything was going to be okay. For a split second, I forgot I was late. I blinked a few times and then mentally slapped myself. What was I doing? Getting all flustered over an Uber driver? Get it together, Claire.We drove for a few blocks in silence, and I tried my hardest to focus on something else—anything else—besides how cute this guy was. I opened Instagram on my phone and started scrolling mindlessly, but I could feel his eyes on me every now and then in the rearview mirror. Finally, he broke the silence.“So, engagement party, huh?” he asked.I glanced up, surprised. “How did you know?”He grinned. “Your dress.” He gestured to my knee-length floral dress. “You look like you’re dressed for something special. Either that or you just have really great fashion sense.”I laughed. “Oh, this old thing?” I tugged at the hem of my dress playfully. “It’s nothing. But yeah, engagement party. My best friend’s getting married.”“Nice,” he said. “Weddings are always fun. Do you know what you’re getting her as a gift?”I groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m terrible at gifts. I was just going to give her cash.”“Classy,” he teased.“Hey, cash is practical,” I shot back, pretending to be offended. “It’s not like anyone complains when they get money.”“True,” he said with a laugh. And just like that, we fell into an easy conversation. We talked about everything—my job as a freelance writer, his recent decision to drive for Uber full-time while working on his photography business, our mutual love of good coffee, and our hatred for small talk.Before I knew it, we had arrived at the venue. I checked the time and realized we’d made it in record time, despite the traffic. As I reached for my bag, I hesitated.“Thank you,” I said, not really wanting to get out of the car. “For the ride and the conversation.”He smiled again—that same, warm smile that had caught me off guard earlier. “It was my pleasure, Claire. I hope the party’s a blast.”I stepped out of the car, but before I could close the door, I leaned back in. “Hey, Daniel?”“Yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.“Do you have a business card? You know, for your photography,” I added quickly, hoping I didn’t sound too eager.His smile widened as he reached into the glove compartment and handed me a simple card with his name, number, and a link to his photography portfolio.“Call me if you ever need a photographer,” he said. “Or another ride.”I took the card, feeling the corners of my mouth lift into a smile of my own. “I will.”The party was a blur after that. All I could think about was Daniel—his smile, his laugh, and the way he’d made me feel like I’d known him for years, even though we had just met.The next day, I did something totally out of character for me: I texted him. Just a simple, “Hey, thanks again for the ride. Hope your day is going well!”To my surprise, he responded almost immediately. From there, we kept talking—first casually, then more frequently. Coffee dates turned into long walks in the park, which eventually turned into late-night phone calls where we shared our dreams and fears with each other.It wasn’t long before I realized that Daniel wasn’t just some random Uber driver. He was kind, funny, and thoughtful. More importantly, he was someone I could be myself around without fear of judgment. Every time we were together, it felt easy, like we’d known each other in another lifetime.Fast forward a year, and here we are—together, happier than ever. Who would’ve thought that the universe would play matchmaker with an Uber ride?So yeah, I guess soulmates do exist. And sometimes, they come into your life when you least expect it—like when you’re running late for an engagement party and hop into an Uber driven by the love of your life.
By AOR JONATHAN AONDONAabout a year ago in Fiction
The Boy Is Dead
The boy woke up. It was early. His alarm had summoned him out of the dream realm and into another realm which was characterised by its grey haze and dully lined clouds. The window provided an excellent view of the towers, of black bin bags, and the city buzzed and hummed, with the sound of engines and power drills. The boy waited a moment, held his device which revealed the time, and seeing as the time was not so jeopardising, ignored it entirely until such a jeopardising scenario would arise. The device held him in its supplemental light, covering in place of the shy sun, and the people in it’s universe existed in a state of perpetual happiness, or perpetual knowledge, and they never left, and they never stopped. The boy could not quite live here yet, he was close, but would need some short time to arrive at the glorious destination in which these people resided. And so for now he would settle and be content in peering through this luminous 7 inch window, a window he could press his face against and not worry, for he could see them, and they could see him and speak to him, and they would tell him stories and they would show him the way. He would at times try to return the favour, make conversation even, but he knew that they had achieved so much more than him, that they were too preoccupied in their success for someone who had not yet reached such an elevated stature. The boy stayed, eyes fixated on the wonders through which he could experience just by looking through the window, and sometimes he would peer through another window, showing him those who were not worthy of his status. Through this window he would snarl at them, as a guard dog does when he senses an approaching impostor, and he would speak to them, reminding them of their position, and teaching them a lesson or two about why they should change themselves, providing examples for those weak ones who resided in the echelons below his standing so that they too would be able to reach his level, and peer into the same window of brilliant hope. After a time the clock lurched forward, as the cost of the window was paid not in cash but in hours. Those on the other side of the window would take these hours as due compensation for the pleasure afforded to their subjects to view them, and to be fortunate to know them in any such way.
By Ismaeel Piperdiabout a year ago in Fiction
World Peace
She was standing at the dais when she thought about the Sunday when everything changed. With her mortarboard on and her most recent speech finished, Jessica looked back at everything that changed around her. The governments that hated each other announced that they would no longer be “pursuing interests in detriment to our citizens” (that was verbatim; she could not forget it if she tried). Weapons would be broken down; armies would be recalled. Peace would be established around the world. And it was all her fault.
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Fiction
VibrationMan. Top Story - August 2024.
Little four-pound Johnny Vitelli was born nine weeks premature. His mom called him her little runt. But she didn’t realize that Johnny was blind and with weak legs. He was brought into a world of pain and darkness.
By Rick Henry Christopher about a year ago in Fiction
Leaden Power
Bulging eyes sorely staring through my reflection. Bare body, bloated belly. As primal as if just escaped the womb. With an age far greater than that lived, settling in between the creases and cracks of my skin. My mind, it does not operate as theirs do. Cogs turn with great effort, while theirs churn thoughtlessly. With utter ease. An ability to be human without care. I care so much that it could kill me. Each word that leaves my breath is calculated and considered. My force is my own caretaker. Travelling my steps away from the edge and forward, forward. Towards another day. Into life. It is nights like this where my daily exhaustion of exertion overwhelms me and I drown in its burnt energy. Being alive should not be this hard.
By Katerina Petrouabout a year ago in Fiction
The Language of Love
Seki had grown up in the shadows, where all he could see and touch was darkness. He’d never had a home, not truly. He lived among a group of delinquents, strangers to themselves and to each other, who spoke the language of violence. Such a language had never strongly spoken to Seki. He’d watched men fistfight to the death before the time he was seven, and he never found those men to be awe-inspiring. They were nothing but brutes, seeking meaning and pride in their own meaningless lives by beating each other senseless. It was repulsive. They were all repulsive.
By angela hepworthabout a year ago in Fiction
