Walking Home

As I squeeze my way out of the crowded lift and walk toward the exit, I feel a cool breeze on my face. The working week is over. Stepping outside I see that it’s raining, I don’t have an umbrella. I lift the hood of my fleece jacket and accept that I’m going to get wet. Quickly walking along the path, avoiding puddles and low hanging branches. I hate how close the path is to the road, as spray from the passing traffic soaks me. And then a question I often ask myself during heavy traffic. Do I trust the cars not to mow me down or do I press the button on the pelican crossing? Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my keys and unlock the door. I am completely soaked through and all I want to do is go to sleep.