There is a girl standing on the corner of the intersection, waiting to cross the street.  She has the face of a child but her hair is all gray.  Her body is small and her clothes sort of hang off her.  Her sodden shoes are letting the rainwater in.

The cars are moving constantly, but the stream is just endless.  There is no way a careful girl like her could cross.  She sits down finally in exhaustion.  The patch of grass underneath her feels cool and pliable.  She senses a spider dance up her bare leg.  She looks at her crumbling shoes so long that they start to change.  They slither a circle and swallow themselves and make themselves into rings.  She imagines the circles so hard that the rings glint and spin and become solid wheels.  She stands up unsteady but the wheels propel her promptly through the intersection.  She’s been standing still for so long that the movement itself feels good.

The cars slam their brakes in confusion, as they are only their own drivers.  They signal unsure, but feel like the light hadn’t changed.

The girl’s long hair circulates into the most emerald of greens, and the sunlight glints off it like seawater and trees.  Her clothes slip off and she spirals through the streets, naked and like a goddess at peace.