Brian pulled up to a red light. It was one of those intersections he hated, because it always seemed to turn yellow on him just as he approached it and it would stay red for more than a couple of minutes. He just slid back and let the music booming in his car surround him. He could talk to his brother, who was sitting across from him, but their relationship was that of opposites: peaceful coexistence. Music had always been there for him, and he always found an odd sense of peace in hearing the words he wished he could scream out to the world. No matter how farfetched the song, he could always twist the lyrics to mean exactly what he wanted them to.

And then, the light changed back to that marvelous light green. In excitement he pounded the pedal with his foot and felt the exhilerating sensation of accelleration. He loved roller coasters, but he loved the control he had over his car more. His brother, who was used to these aggressive displays of dominance over vehicle and road, was silent. As the vehicle's speedometer slowly slid higher and higher, Brian was forced to weave in and out of traffic. His car was an extension of his body, his proudest possession, and he would get ahead of everyone. He loved to make those last second turns in front of other cars, and never lost his nerve, even when those discouraging bastardous decided to use their horns. All of sudden, there was another red in front of him. He threw on his brakes and his head snapped forward and back into the headrest, leaving a small tingling.

His eyes blinked. The most profound blink he could ever remember. He looked up at the sign listing the name of the road and blinked again. What was this?
"What are you doing?", shouted his brother in conjunction with a blaring horn coming from behind the car.
And all of sudden, there Brian was. Right where he had started, a victim to his own imagination.