Juette stood on the sidewalk. The cars speeded by without a second thought.
He stared at the heavy but fluid traffic. The gaps between the vehicles were small, but if he was quick, maybe he could—
The wind of movement ruffling his hair stopped suddenly as the light turned red. The few remaining cars slithered away. The rest would remain still for exactly five minutes.
He looked at the passerbys crossing the road in groups. Four minutes.
He looked at the automobiles waiting at the line. Three minutes.
He looked straight in front of him, at the large, empty road. Two minutes.
He stepped forward slowly, slowly, until he stood at the very edge of the sidewalk. One minute.
He waited there, as still as the cars waiting for their turn, counting down the seconds in his head, until—
The light turned green.
Instead of stepping forward, he pulled away.
He didn't have the guts to do it today either, then.
(He'd try again tomorrow.)