I look over and see a teenager tap fingers on the steering wheel and lip-sync to rock ’n roll. Behind him, a fat woman kisses a small white dog turning circles on her lap. I notice the weight of my judgments, her face covered in dog saliva. On the other side, a young woman looks in the rearview mirror of her convertible, touches her face, and finger combs her hair. People standing on the corner wait for permission. Behind me, a man in a suit leans forward, as though forward is the only choice we ever have at a stoplight.
From: Friday Flash Fiction