I was beginning to attach myself to my surroundings. The street was
full of traffic. My kind of traffic. Cars that were too big or too
small.
"Look, officers, I'm not drunk or disorderly. I thought this was a cab.
I just wanted to get away from back then--I mean back _there_."
The two policemen exchanged glances.
"What were you running from?" the driver asked.
How could I tell him that?