She watched, hypnotized as she waited, at the flow around. Inanimate objects had never looked more beautiful. For once, the hand of man hadn’t erred. It was a dance, she thought, a most carefully choreographed one. Signals changed at the correct moment. They raced in opposite directions, along paths so near, yet never destined to meet. First straight across, then, as green became yellow and then red, another set came to life. They turned left in graceful curves, almost within kissing distance of each other. Then, farther apart, bending into right turns across not-totally-right angles. They swirled around each other, rushing, slowing down, rushing away again, never once stopping. Like the slow and intricate ballet of waves at the seashore – dash in, do a little twirl and then scuttle out before the next performers come on.

The steps were simple enough, but getting the timing and the correct approach was important. A slight mistake would result in one ramming into another.

She was brought out of her trance by a sharp sound. She had missed her cue to go onstage. The others waiting for their turn looked at her angrily. She gave a little sigh, and moved to take her place. A neat left turn, well executed. And there ending her performance, exited the stage.

Soon she sped away, while the dance at the traffic lights continued.

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