Every driver knows the feeling of sitting at a red light with nothing to do except study the car in front of you. You count the bumper stickers. You check the mirror. You wonder whether your hair looks better in the left light or the right light. It is the loneliest minute of the day.
Then, one gray autumn morning at a quiet crossroads, the loneliness ended. Right outside the passenger window, hovering at exactly the correct height for polite eye contact, sat a woman in a cream dress with black polka dots, a corset waist, and a fluffy little feather trim on her sleeve. She was perched sideways on a straw broom as casually as if it were a park bench.
Her red hair was pinned up in a neat style, and she glanced around with the calm confidence of someone who has never once been late. The light was red, so she waited. That was the part nobody in the traffic could get over. A flying witch, and she still respected the traffic signal.
When the light stayed red a little longer than expected, she did what every traveler does: she adjusted her skirt, checked the street ahead, and took out a tiny mirror to fix her look. A broom, it turns out, comes with excellent legroom and no seatbelt reminders. The little black shoes with white socks swung gently in the air, keeping time to a song only she could hear.
The driver, meanwhile, was having a very different morning. He had spent three weeks planning a perfect playlist for this commute, and now none of it mattered. Every glance toward the window ended with the same silent question: is this really happening, and does she have a spare seat?
The green light finally came. With a small tilt, the broom drifted forward, the polka dots fluttered, and the whole scene rolled gently out of view like a very stylish weather report. By the time the car moved, she had become a tiny dot above the road, probably already at the next intersection and waving to someone else.
This clip was made with artificial imagination, of course, which is the only kind of imagination that can park a witch at a traffic light with such good manners. Still, it leaves a useful lesson for anyone who spends mornings in a metal box: if you cannot fly, at least be as calm as the woman on the broom.
Next time the light turns red, take a deep breath, smile, and look up. You never know who is waiting beside you.
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