The Stories Beneath the Signal

Every red light is a paragraph halted in time, where destinies intersect for an invisible heartbeat. Yesterday, a woman whispered secrets to an awaiting bench; today, the wind carries stray words spoken half-remembered.

(A child draws spirals in the conscience of waiting cars)
~~ - - ~~
The crosswalk signals blush green, their hollers unnoticed by customary passersby.


Wiper blades carve raindrops into wandering affects and impressions squeak rusty.

Ella strummed a chord on an imaginary guitar just waiting for the traffic to part. "Once here, never again," she hummed, striking rhythms on another world.

"You do know that signal philosopher spots aren’t commonplace for our kind?” whispered a less-tentative shade unfamiliar to summer breath.

Lines of passing cars sketch stories that you can see only if you observe long enough. He noticed, but where did those lines seem to go?