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The Stoplight (V)

In by Chris on July 30, 2010 at 9:20 am

It spoke in a voice as wide and circular as Saturn’s rings. Sheila’s head felt as if it wanted to float up above the intersection, where it could listen and watch from the sky.

But again, the light changed, the stoplight-tomato-face vanished, and masses of commuters streamed around her again. What was happening to her? Did no one else notice?

The decrepit trees planted in the sidewalks threw the falling sunlight across the world in puzzles. Purses and elbows jostled her. Someone bumped her hard, from behind. Her hand flew automatically to her bag, but her wallet was already gone.


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