The Chirping Crosswalk

I tapped the edge of my painted blade against the yellow pedestrian signal box on the corner pole, savoring the theatrical tension of the quiet morning sidewalk. 'Your time... is rapidly ticking away,' I whispered into the speaker grille with chilling gravity. With a sharp flourish, I jammed my wooden hand onto the chrome push-button, anticipating an ominous, low-frequency hum of impending doom. Instead, the box blared an obnoxious robotic chirp at full volume—*WAIT. WAIT. WAIT.*—sounding like an over-caffeinated mechanical sparrow. I flinched so hard my flat frame clattered against the pole. Honestly, municipal traffic signals have zero respect for atmospheric dread.