When they got into the cab, he looked angry. Maria wasn’t sure why—she didn’t mean anything by what she said.After all, the chairman had asked her opinion at the meeting, she didn’t volunteer it.

She watched as the cab zipped through the slick-as-glass city streets. Settling back into the shabby
seat, she began to check her text messages. Drizzle covered the front windshield as the wipers made a steady swishing sound in a futile attempt to clear it.

He’s always annoyed about something, Maria thought. Maybe I’ll get out at the next traffic light and walk.

Pete hugged the door of the cab, avoiding her. She got under his skin: her whiny voice, her insistence on
expressing her opinion whether anyone wanted it or not. And the grandstanding! It was what the guys in high school used to call brown-nosing.

Why can’t women do what God intended them to do? Pete thought. They should Just work for a couple of years as a secretary or a teacher, then get married and take care of kids. It worked for my mother. What makes these young gals so damned ambitious?It would be just my luck to have this—this—woman steal the promotion I’ve worked so hard to get!
He had been a drudge, working overtime, no time for friends or a girl friend. Not that any of the girls he met interested him. They probably are all like this Maria what’s- her-name, he thought. It just galled him to think of this Miss Sanchez or whatever her name was waltzing in and getting the promotion just because she was a woman.

All in the name of what was it again? Affirmative action, diversity or some other bull?
The rain began to make a staccato rhythm on the roof of the cab.

I don’t care, Pete thought, maybe I’ll get out at the next corner and walk.

The windshield wipers were madly trying to keep up with the steady beat of the downpour as the cab pulled up to a red light.

“Let me out, please!” both passengers shouted in unison.

They emerged from the cab and looked up, each startled to see the other standing at the curb.

Maria was quickly becoming drenched, so she opened the fabric shield of her black executive-style umbrella
with a swift flick of her wrist.

With a grim look on his face, Pete extended his black umbrella over his head.

Standing on the same curb, they deliberately avoided any contact, any acknowledgement or any sign that they were even acquainted.

Just then a car raced around the corner, careened through a puddle the size of a small lake and sprayed both of them with a plume of muddy water.

Pete shook his umbrella off, and lowered its protective awning. He glanced sideways at Maria, and saw that she
was doing the same thing.

A smile spread slowly across her face.
She extended her hand and said, “Truce?”