I take fares every day, and every day I drive people to their destinations.
Until one day, I found myself on the passenger list.
In my third year driving nights, I started getting strange requests.
The first: The passenger’s note said, “Please do not speak.” I couldn’t help saying something. The next day, a pair of red embroidered shoes had appeared in my trunk.
The second: My passenger was a woman in a white dress who kept her head down the entire ride. After she got out, a puddle of water was left on the back seat.
The third: The destination was always the same place, an abandoned funeral home that had been deserted for twenty years.
Later, my app started accepting fares automatically. It chimed at exactly midnight every night. I couldn’t cancel or refuse the ride.
Then, at 1:23 a.m. this morning, the System assigned me a fare.
Passenger pickup: outside my apartment building.
Passenger name: Zhang Wei.
Passenger phone: my number.
The note said:
“Driver, once you finish this ride tonight, you’ll be free.”
I drove to the pickup spot.
Someone was standing by the road.
He was wearing exactly the same jacket as me.
He opened the car door and climbed into the back seat.
In the rearview mirror, I saw his face.
It was my own.
He smiled.
“Drive,” he said. “Take me to the funeral home.”
“When we get there,” he paused, “you’ll know which one of us is the ghost.”
