I was driving home from work singing full-volume to that stupid Katy Perry song about birthdays, when I saw flashing lights at the end of my street. The intersection that usually bustles with fast-paced traffic, was stifled by a line of cars waiting to be allowed to cross and a crowd of neighbors who had trickled out from their homes. A teenager sat alone on his bike at the curb, watching at a distance. I pulled over and got out.
The vehicle was flipped on its side and there were many men in uniform circled around, watching their partners work to cut whoever was still inside out. I listened to two of my neighbors talk angrily behind me.
“It’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “This intersection is absolutely ridiculous, it’s a miracle someone doesn’t get killed every day! They need a stop sign, or a one way, or something to get this under control.”
The man next to her nodded in agreement. We watched silently for a few minutes until a blonde woman was pulled from the car — alive and conscious. Eventually the crowd trickled away, I got in my car, and drove home.
