I'm going to tell you a story. I feel kind of ridiculous about it, but I figure talking will help me deal with it.
You see, there's an activity that I engage in most days on a regular schedule. Most of the time, I can sort of cruise along. I look around me and listen to pleasant sounds from the radio. I'm on autopilot.
The people around me do pretty much the same. We're all headed in the same direction at a similar pace.
I can sense on the horizon something approaching. My fellows respond in different ways: some accelerate, most are outwardly placid. Myself, I don't know what to do. I tense in spite of myself. I am still as things around me whirl past.
That something on the horizon casts its gaze upon us all. It is perfectly at ease in this place, high above us. It bears no malice, though sometimes I imagine it. In reality, most of its kind don't consider us at all.
I've tried to meet its gaze, but I never can for long. I swear it will react to me. I avert my eyes.
And it does. React. My heart seizes and I make a quick decision. This is one of the most acute sources of distress in my day-to-day.
...
...
I stop before the yellow traffic light.
