Right of Way

Following that chalk arrow straight down the sidewalk brought me right to the intersection. Bolted low to the gray metal pole was a heavy yellow crosswalk controller box, its oversized stainless-steel button practically daring me to take charge. I didn't wait for traffic to thin out. Leaping from the curb edge, I caught the ribbed aluminum bracket, pulled myself up, and landed both heels directly onto the metal disc. I drove my full weight down. The mechanism sank with a hefty, satisfying CLACK, instantly firing off a sharp electronic chirp that echoed into the night. Red signals across the street shifted to white. When I call the crossing, the whole street waits.