The Intersection

On any other day, this would be her busiest time.  She stands on the narrow patch of grass, glancing at her aged watch and wincing as she registers the lateness of the hour.  In ten more minutes it will be 9 am, and the traffic will have peaked.  She sighs deeply, taking in a breath of air that is redolent with a mixture of tar from nearby  construction, exhaust from the passing vehicles, and the occasional wafting of sweet floral from the neighbouring residential area. 

Two weeks ago the city started a new construction project on the overpass leading to her corner, turning what was once four lanes of rush hour traffic into a single lane of angry commuters.  Today, her assiduous waving of the battered paper cup manages to incur only the dark glowers of frustrated occupants, and not the sympathetic handouts she relies upon for her survival.  She jingles the handful of change she has collected, and tries to decide whether it would best be spent on a coffee to warm her, or a candy bar to tide her over until  the evening commute.

At each red light, she shuffles down the line of vehicles, and shuffles back again once the traffic begins to flow.  As she waits for the next turn of the lights, she shifts her weight from foot to foot in order to ameliorate the dull ache that has settled into her legs and bones.  Her feet have become inured to the seeping cold of the season; her back to the relentless hours spent pacing.

Her attention is drawn by the screeching of tires, and she descries an accident farther down in the line of traffic.  As she watches the foofaraw unfold between the two drivers, she sinks slowly to the ground.    Whilst these two men in matching blue suits argue over insurance policies and hold their necks in feigned agony, she closes her eyes to the ramifications of yet another obstacle to the oncoming vehicles.  Instead, she allows herself a moment to dream of a warm, vanilla scented kitchen filled with familiar faces and laughter.

Soon enough, the damaged vehicles will be moved to the side, and she will have to summon a mask of alacrity as she once again calls upon the charity of the city.