Erin always took a detour after work. She\u2019d walk through the seven alleys of the old town and stop at the eighth turn\u2014that intersection where the traffic light was always counting down for invisible cars, and the crosswalk was blindingly white, like some kind of eternal wait.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But tonight was different. A ginger cat was crouched at the base of the traffic light pole, the tip of its tail curled like a question mark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you waiting, too?\u201d Erin crouched down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The cat glanced at her and strolled leisurely toward the center of the intersection. The green light had just gone out; the yellow light flashed three times, and the red light came on. The cat sat down and licked its front paw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just then, the gentlest thing in the world happened. A breeze blew in from the east, carrying the caramel scent of the bakery just before closing time and the sigh of the last bucket of roses from the flower shop to the west. From all four directions of the intersection, a person emerged almost simultaneously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A young father pushing a stroller, with a dry-cleaning bag hanging from it. An elderly woman walking three dogs, their leashes resembling a musical staff under the streetlight. A teenager carrying a guitar, with headphone cords dangling from the brim of his cap. And a woman holding a paper cup of coffee, walking slowly in her high heels as if counting her own steps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They stopped at the red light. No one was tapping on their phones, no one was speaking\u2014they simply stood there. The baby fell asleep, the dogs sat down, the guitarist placed his guitar case at his feet, and the woman with the coffee exhaled a puff of white vapor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Erin saw the saffron-colored cat stand up and circle around everyone\u2019s feet. As it passed the stroller, the father looked down and smiled; as it passed the elderly woman, all three dogs wagged their tails at once; as it passed the teenager, a resonant hum emanated from the guitar case; and as it passed the woman with the coffee, she crouched down and stroked the cat\u2019s ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The green light came on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No one was in a hurry to leave. The man with the stroller let the elderly woman cross first; the elderly woman\u2019s dog circled back and nuzzled the guitarist\u2019s hand; the guitarist stepped aside to let the woman with the coffee go first; the woman handed her half-finished cup of coffee to the cat\u2014the cat sniffed it, then remained crouched in the middle of the road, watching them all disappear into the night in four different directions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Erin stood up. She suddenly remembered what she was waiting for every day\u2014waiting for an answer, waiting for a phone call, waiting for the world to give her a clear signal telling her which way to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But at that moment, the intersection was deserted. The saffron-colored cat had vanished, and only the traffic light continued to tirelessly cycle through green and red, like a quietly beating heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She chose the east. Sure enough, there was one croissant left at the bakery; as the owner packed it into a paper bag, he slipped in an extra toffee. \u201cI see you pass by here all the time,\u201d he said, \u201cand today you finally stopped.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Erin took a bite of the croissant. As the flaky pastry crumbled on her tongue, she suddenly felt that perhaps waiting itself was a form of arrival. Those countless strangers she\u2019d passed by, those moments separated and then brought together by the traffic lights\u2014they were never unawaited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is the whole world that is silently escorting us home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Intersection Where No One Waits<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":499,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[23,18],"class_list":["post-498","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-heal","tag-feeling","tag-story"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/498","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=498"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/498\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":500,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/498\/revisions\/500"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/499"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=498"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=498"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=498"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}