Gus was looking forward to coming home and having dinner with his wife, who had called him two minutes ago asking him to hurry up because she was making soup and she didn’t want it to get cold. After being a cab driver for fifteen years and counting, Gus had realized that there was no force in the world greater than his wife’s fury; not even the road rage he encountered on the most traffic-congested road could compare to her wrath if he showed up late for dinner or, God forbid, forgot to feed the cat before going to work. So he was heading straight home after the call, thinking about his endearingly frightening wife and the subjectively delicious dinner she had planned in their quaint apartment five miles away from Piccadilly Circus. Driving in New York City and London his entire caree...

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