Free Model Composition

        “Mum… Mum… the cab driver is driving too fast,” I whispered stealthily into my mother’s ears as softly as I could. My mother put a comforting arm on my shoulder. No sooner had I completed my sentence than the cab driver stepped on his accelerator with more gusto. All my facial muscles cringed in dismay as I took a peek at his speedometer. He was clearly flouting the speed limits openly. He probably saw himself as a Formula One racer while blazing on the road like a speed demon. “Sir, would you please slow down?” I asked tentatively. Although he picked up my complaints, the driver seemed to be frowning upon it grudgingly. The word “sick” was clearly etched across my forehead but he chose to ignore my pleas.