Traffic Signal, 8:43 PM
I have stood at this signal more times than I have counted. I never once watched it the way I did the evening I had nowhere to be.
The red light stretches past comfort.
A delivery rider balances three steel tiffins. The top one leaks along the curve. He wipes it with his thumb, then checks his phone.
A girl moves between cars with tissue packets. She taps lightly on some. Passes others without slowing.
Inside a sedan, a man grips the steering wheel as if the signal insulted him.
Someone honks without strategy.
The light stays red.
For a second after it turns green, no one moves.
Then engines respond.
The girl steps back to the divider.
The rider merges into traffic.
The signal resets for someone else.
- Abhishek Banerjee
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