In a Parking Lot

The throbbing ache in my stomach grows, accompanied by a pounding headache. Hunger becomes a persistent interruption in my thoughts. As I lift my foot off the brake, a fleeting moment of relief flashes with the red light, only to be followed by the need to press it down again. The darkness outside intensifies the brightness of the crimson light, irritating my eyes. Progress is agonizingly slow, resembling the pace of an ant, and the traffic feels more like a congested parking lot. Another rumble emanates from my abdomen, reminding me of my empty stomach. Raindrops plop on the windshield, quickly swept away by the wipers every five seconds.

In an attempt to keep my mind occupied, I decide to turn up the volume on the radio. I wonder why I haven't connected my phone to the speaker yet, contemplating my own lack of technological savvy. I refuse to seek help from my ex; I've cut ties with that chapter of my life. With only three preset radio stations, I press the first button – Christmas music blares through the speakers, a bit too early for the season. The second button – The Beastie Boys blast through, but it's not quite my preference. Finally, the third button – The Weeknd's music fills the car, a satisfactory choice. The red lights disappear momentarily, and my foot lifts off the brake. They reappear, and my foot descends once again.

Amidst this snail-paced crawl, a figure dressed in white catches my attention. Through the rain, I can make out a man wearing an unusually white hat, approaching my car. My heart quickens as I mentally prepare for possible interactions, a result of my generalized anxiety disorder. He stops at the car in front, engages in what seems to be a friendly conversation, and then makes his way towards my window.

My heart pounds, and my breath becomes shallow as he signals for me to roll down my window, accompanied by an eerie grin. I reluctantly oblige, creating a small gap. He starts talking, and I freeze, unable to form a coherent response. All I manage to do is weakly point at the object he's holding. He nods, and as he walks away, I hastily roll up my window, regaining my composure. The car inches forward, and the man disappears from sight.

Suddenly, a peculiar smell permeates the car. Onions? My stomach rumbles louder, pleading for sustenance. I silently pray for the traffic to move faster. As my foot lifts, the car inches closer to the vehicle in front. Surrounded by palm trees, I try to focus my attention on the car ahead. Red light, no light, red light, hold.

This time, the car ahead lingers longer than before. Should I browse my phone to pass the time? I pick it up and scroll through my ex's Instagram story. A pang of regret washes over me for still following him. I quickly skip past his story, browsing through others instead. My best friend's post catches my eye, but she's with a guy I don't recognize. Whose account is this? Shocked, I drop my phone. Frantically reaching for it, I'm startled by the sound of a horn honking. Startled, I realize there's a significant gap between my car and the one ahead. I wave, apologize, and move forward.

As the traffic inches along, yet another figure approaches my car. Anxiety returns with a vengeance – my heart races, and my breath quickens. Rolling down the window, I see a woman wearing a white hat, asking for money. I hand her a few bills, and I can't help but notice her eerie smile. In return, she hands me a piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. I hastily toss it aside, not wanting to delve into whatever it may represent.

Glancing at the car in front, I realize it will soon clear the intersection. Just then, another figure in a white hat appears, handing me a white bag. I peek inside, revealing my desired order – a double-double, animal style with fries. My stomach grumbles in anticipation as I glance up – no red lights, no traffic. I seize the opportunity and drive away, finally escaping the clutches of the slow-moving chaos.