I am driving behind this jeep, and I watch the guy driving it stick one hand out of the window to tap his cigarette. Ash falls from it, and my car, moving forward, reaches up to meet it. We, all the drivers in the vicinity and I, stop at a red light just a little further. It’s not an intersection, there’s simply a crosswalk from a school to some apartment buildings whose paint is peeling off. They put a light here several years ago kind of out of nowhere: who spends money on traffic lights these days? The roads are so bumpy that drivers need to keep their eyes on the road at all times, which means that if you spend precious milliseconds looking at a traffic light, you risk your car going into some bump or hole and breaking down right there, all this because you decided to be a good driver and look at the light.
This is why the guy in the jeep tapped his cigarette without looking at it. The sun was just rising, so it shone abundantly on the bald back of his head. Actually, his whole head was shaved, so it’s not fair to call the back of his head bald, but anyway this is where the sun shone. The white-pink skin pulled over his skull reflected the light, so it shone back at me. The guy lit another cigarette. In this traffic, I often found myself wishing I smoked, but that never sufficed as a motivation.
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