It nears closing as I attempt work at Good Karma, the coffee house on Pine street. I decide to pack up my belongings, out of respect for the last lonely employee, and make my way home. It is unusually warm for January so I decide to walk, saving the token for another time. I put in my earbuds, turn on my iPod, and keep pace with whichever obscure band happens to be playing at the time.
Making my way south on Broad street, I start the dance of stopping, looking both ways, and crossing at intersections in attempts to avoid vehicles. I mostly abide by the laws of the road, the ones influencing and shaping this jagged dance. But ultimately, I decide to use my own judgement as to when to cross. There are ‘do not walk’ signs, signaling when one should cross, but through my past experiences I now view them as dares. Daring me to cross at my own will, because my safety is not guaranteed.