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Traffic Lights
Posted by Sylvan Sylph, Mar 13, 2008. 603 views. ID = 831
This post was written in 8 minutes.
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 | A lot can go through my mind in one minute. |  | This post has been awarded 30 stars by 7 readers. |
Red light.
I press the brake pedal, sighing inwardly as the car slows to a stop. My mind disengages. I stare blankly across the street, wishing I were already there, driving between the two buildings with neon lights glowing in their windows. A flickering draws my eye to a neon sign boldly announcing, "Blinds," in large red letters. I feel my impatience flicker in response. I vaguely wonder how much time will pass before the sign burns out, and the flickering turns to darkness. I know that I don't really care, as long as I am well gone from here by then.
I spend too much time at traffic lights.
My eye wanders to the sign's companion. Its red glow advertises for shutters. I want to know why someone uses neon signs to advertise for shutters. It seems strange to me. I begin thinking about neon gas, trying to remember high school chemistry. I imagine I can recall that neon gas is poisonous, but I can't really remember. It's been too long.
I find it odd how time makes us forget things, more so how we make up things to fill in the gaps.
My eye crosses to the other building, a pizza shop. Neon signs light every pane of the glass storefront. Perhaps the blinds and shutters shop was only trying to avoid being lost in the glow. I briefly consider that if neon gas really is poisonous, and all the signs in the store break, everyone present will probably die.
It occurs to me that I think morbid thoughts when I'm bored.
I watch a blue neon arrow flash on one of the signs. I start to read it, but I don't pay enough attention to understand the words. I dislike neon signs. They are gaudy and intrusive. I don't want to look at it anymore, but the flashing keeps me staring.
I wish the traffic light would turn green.
Cars drive past, between me and the blue arrow. I don’t really notice them. Some part of my mind sees the white and red of the lights as they go by. Irrational irritation flares. I am annoyed to be sitting here, waiting, while they move past. Reason reminds me that everyone must take a turn at waiting. My time will come. I need to have patience.
The blue arrow is still flashing. I keep staring. I try to figure out how one minute can last so long.
I find myself wondering if I live my life as if it is just a series of red lights: brief stops, sometimes seeming to last an eternity, which I cannot enjoy because I am impatiently preoccupied with racing toward the next.
Green light.
Copyright 2008 Sylvan Sylph. All rights reserved. FifteenMinutesOfFiction.com has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.
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Comments
Josiah T.
Mar 14, 2008 | Ya know, I've found that if you go the speed limit through the city, if you hit them at the right time, you can just sail right through the green lights. :-)
~Posted by Josiah T., Mar 14, 2008 |
Sylvan Sylph
Mar 14, 2008 | I used to be able to do that when I lived in Maine. Since moving they have become a more significant part of my life than they used to be. Unfortunately, where I am now, there are entirely too many to be able to accomplish that.
~Posted by Sylvan Sylph, Mar 14, 2008 | 
Aimster du Clarkentine
Mar 15, 2008 | Your flow of consciousness is entertaining. ;)
~Posted by Aimster du Clarkentine, Mar 15, 2008 |
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