The light has turned green, and I am ready to move my car forward. I have moved my line of vision down from the traffic signal, to your brake light. My ankle muscle is tensed, ready to move my foot from the brake to the accelerator. Now I’m just waiting to see that little red light of yours go out.
You got this.
It’s all you.
Roxxxxxaaannne! You don’t have to put on your red light!
You are Roxanne. You can turn off your red light. By which I mean, of course, that you can start moving your vehicle forward…
No? Need another second? Okay.
So, what are you doing up there, anyway?
I saw a man shaving his face while driving once. Is that what you are doing? Maybe you are the same man. Maybe you traded in your eighties model Mercedes for this late nineties Corolla. Lucky!
Perhaps you are composing an ode to the traffic light! You just couldn’t hold it in. Inspiration struck and you whipped around in your seat to grab your Casio and write a ballad for the ages.
Wait, maybe you are in trouble. Maybe a cloud of swamp gas wafted between you and the traffic light, directing a concentrated beam of green light directly at your cornea! Now, poor thing, you are writhing in agony in the reclined driver’s seat of your green sedan.
Oh, I get it! It is so obvious. Always go for the simplest solution, right? You were waiting for all of the stragglers from the cross traffic to stop running their red light. That’s it, isn’t it? Well, it is surely safe now. No? We should wait a little longer?
And we’ve missed the green light.