The light turns red. I hit the brakes. It’s the zillionth red light in what seems to be a day of red lights. I must have done something to upset the traffic gods. I let out a few choice swear words as repentance.
Fleegle glances at me from the passenger seat, ears back, a worried look on his face.
He thinks I’m swearing at him. “Oh, not you. The light. It’s red.” It turns green and we go.
The next light, where I want to take a right, turns red too. There’s a car in front of us in the right turn lane and their right turn signal is flashing. I relax. There’s no traffic coming and they’ll turn soon. We won’t have to wait pointlessly. But they don’t turn. Instead they sit there waiting for the light to change to green.
I stare at the back of the driver’s head, gritting my teeth. It’s timid Timmy driving who’s afraid to take a right on a red.
“@#$%&!,” I say.
Fleegle gives me that worried look again.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “It’s not you.”
“If it’s not me, then who is it? I’m the only other one in this car and I’ve done nothing but sit here and smile at you.”
“I’m swearing at my imaginary friend, Timmy.”
“Oh? What’s Timmy done this time?”
“Timmy thinks he’s at home on his living room couch when he’s actually in his car asleep at the wheel with a string of people waiting behind him to turn right.”
Fleegle stares nonplussed out the windshield at the offending taillights in front of us. “Instead of swearing at your supposed friend, maybe you should imagine him to be less timid.”