A Small Green Silhouette

A small silhouette on the black box in front of me blinks green, and I cross the street. On the opposite side, a stray cat sits next to a mailbox, glaring at people trickling past. Nearing it, I notice the tip of the cat’s ear is missing. Its eyes meet mine for a brief second, and I’m reminded of a shadow lurking in broad daylight. The moment passes. The cat looks away.

An uncle shouts from a corner street cart. Smoke billows into the air, whirling wafts of tangy fish and salty soup in the soft breeze. His deep voice rumbles underneath the ground I walk on, and when the silhouette behind me turns red, I round the corner. I pass by the uncle and catch the eyes of a mother. Her eyes are bright while her child shrieks and laughs as they barrel into a flock of pigeons, delighted by their scuttling away. I stroll along, dodging puddles and walls still wet with paint. I turn another corner and cross the street. The small silhouette is green.

In the morning air,

a bird perches on a branch,

hum of car engines.