Now here's Bryan Washington.

Gatekeeping.

My passengers are old but rarely senile.

Still very much themselves.

The Black dude I wheel toward his flight to Paris every other Thursday morning wears a patchwork cardigan and a teal silk scarf regardless of the season because, he tells me, the airport's temperature is always the same.

"Bet you keep this bitch freezing on purpose," Carl says.

"It's out of my hands," I say.

And now here's Bryan Washington reading "A Small Flame" by Yiyun Li.

"A Small Flame".

A girl no older than ten accosted Bella and Peter as they left the restaurant famous for its Peking duck.

Adrian, Peter's boyfriend, was lagging behind, practicing his Mandarin one last time before the end of their trip.

"Buy a rose," the girl said to Peter in English, "for your girlfriend." "Thank you, my dear," Peter said, "but she's not my girlfriend." The girl did not understand English.

She prompted him again with the memorized line.

"Quiet," Bella said in Mandarin.

Yeah.