Sunlight glints off the side mirror on the car next to me and catches my eye.
The woman inside sits there at the stoplight, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. Her dark hair is pulled back ,tightly, accentuating the curvature of her jawline.
I can see the tears streaming down her cheeks from a car length away.
I don’t know where she’s going.
I don’t know where she’s been.
But I am mesmerized by the stranger crying at a stoplight on a random Tuesday afternoon.
She glances my way and our eyes meet.
She surprises me by holding my gaze. I offer a small smile.
Something intangible passes through tempered glass. Me to her. Her to me.
A chill travels the length of my spine.
The light turns green and she is gone, moving on to what lies ahead.
Whatever that may be.
3 replies on “Stoplight”
Wow, beautiful. This gave me chills.
Wow. I saw a woman in a car in the grocery store parking lot on Sunday crying. It made me think too. Of course, you said it better than I could.
I have often wondered if strangers in other cars have noticed my tears. I’ve had my fair share of crying meltdowns on the road.