He strides with purpose. The crosswalk is before him: a brief respite from his daily routine.

The signal shifts from green to blinking red. Panic surges through him, compelling him to sprint across the abyss, the thought of waiting any longer too much to bear.

No one observes his personal race against time; would-be spectators are preoccupied with their 6-inch glowing versions of reality.

His polished shoes pound against the pavement, a frantic rhythm that echoes his beating heart. Each stride dances to the symphony of idle engines, punctuated by impatient revving, an ominous reminder of impending chaos.

The light stops blinking.

The sea pours onto the crosswalk. With a final burst of adrenaline he lands safely on the shore. He stands there, chest heaving, sweat trickling, his victory a triumph amidst the bustling metropolis.

He blends back into the rhythm of the city, his groupthink defiance fading into the tapestry of urban life.

LEFT BEHIND by m0xchi

2/99