The Perpetual Red Light

It was 3:17 AM on Tuesday, a time of night when even the streetlights seem tired. Leo sat at the intersection of Fourth and Elm, staring at the unwavering, clinical red light. There was no traffic. There hadn't been a car in fifteen minutes, just the whisper of wind through dry leaves.

The sensor was clearly broken. A normal person would simply drive through it. Leo, however, was a rule-abiding man, a man who believed order was the only thing preventing the world from dissolving into chaos. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

He noticed a figure on the corner. An old man in a frayed trench coat was staring at the signal box as if it held the secrets of the universe.

"Stuck, are we?" the old man called out, hobbling over to Leo's window.

Leo cracked the window a few inches. "The sensor's faulty. I can't just run a red."

The old man chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering across pavement. "The light ain't faulty, son. It's working perfectly. It’s waiting for something to pass that deserves the green."

"What does that even mean?" Leo sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Means the universe is checkin' your patience," the man shrugged. He then produced a small, silver whistle from his pocket and blew a sharp, piercing note into the silent night.

Suddenly, the intersection felt different. The air grew thick and heavy. Leo felt a pressure against his chest. In the periphery of his vision, shadows seemed to shift and coalesce at the edges of the streetlights. A deep, resonant hum started, seeming to come from the pavement itself.

Leo looked at the light. It was still red. He looked back at the corner where the old man had been standing, but he was gone. The heavy feeling grew stronger, an unseen weight pressing down on his small car.

He stared at the light for another minute, the hum growing louder, the shadows pushing inward. Finally, Leo couldn't take it anymore. Order be damned. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped through the intersection without looking back, bursting out of the heavy atmosphere into the normal, quiet street ahead.

He checked his rearview mirror. The red light remained illuminated, perpetual and silent in the dark, empty intersection, waiting.