At the red light, a silver car slides up next to me on the left. Slowly. Slipping against the dashed line. I stare ahead, wondering if the driver is looking at me.
At the green light, the car turns on the speed -- the way I knew it would -- and flashes a quick signal before coasting ahead of me.
I have the feeling that I've been brushed against, a little too nearly, and that a smirk was tossed before he moved on.
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