Conscience Stories

I slam the car door shut and impatiently wait for the taxi driver to open the trunk. I know I’ve been bad company on the drive. Feels terrible. Lost in recollections, re-running the past few hours over and over in my head—a supposedly fleeting memory now etched into my brain. I grab my suitcase, slide my hand in my pocket and, lost in regretful rumination of the previous night, produce a handful of crumpled bills I transf...