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Melodrama

The guy running lead fucked up. Of course, he was oblivious to his error, but I could tell immediately from my position that he had screwed the rest of us. I say “he” but in absolute fairness to the activists the idiot up there could’ve been a “she.” A blunder is still a blunder in this situation, regardless of the person’s gender or race. We had a small window of opportunity for action, and he, she, it, whatever was late. LATE! The leader was late! After that, I had little expectation of making it as everyone in front of me rushed out into the open. I watched our opening close before the onslaught came. It came from directly in front of us, single-minded and charging, a stampede. My only choice was to stop dead in my tracks, as my vision was filled with red.

After the direct rush, they seemed to come from all sides. So many I couldn’t count. But I was not afraid. I was not afraid because I found myself in lead. It was my turn in this vital position, and I knew I wouldn’t make the same boneheaded mistake as my predecessor. No, I possess a higher sense of duty. To those behind me, counting on me not to waver. Waiting. Watching. Though my once eagle-eye vision has been faltering of late, my gaze was fixated, waiting for the chance to strike. It was near. Waiting. Watching. Can’t fail. Everyone counting on me. Waiting. Watching. This is it... GO! GO! GO! A tense of the leg muscles and a flick of the wrist, and I’m off – into the open. I don’t even bother looking back, because my job, my obligation to myself and those behind me was done. And done well. Was I late like the last guy? Late!?!? Hell no. I perfectly timed that green left turn traffic signal