Traffic

“Come on,” he said out loud. “I’m gonna be late,” JT pushed on the horn.

Traffic came to a stand still on the way into town. People in front of him were turning off their cars, and getting out. He wound down the window when a police officer walked up. It would be about a half hour until the jam got going again.

JT cut the engine, but turned the key so he could turn the radio on. Music will make the time go faster. He wasn’t big on today’s songs, but loved his classic rock.

JT hit the scan button, never having set the stations, to find the channel he liked. He stopped the scan when he heard, I Think We’re Alone Now, by Tiffany. Not classic rock, but the song took him back.

Lynda Choice. Her name was tattooed on his brain. She was the first he remembered having real feelings for in high school. The first time he saw her pretty face and flaming red hair, JT walked into a wall.

A month later he read in the city paper that Tiffany was coming to town for a show, and knew Lynda liked her. She agreed to go when he surprised her with front row tickets.

JT leaned back and sang along while the image of him and her dancing in the isle was playing in his head. It was the first time he ever danced with a girl.

The song ended, and he turned the radio off. Instead, he opened up a sports magazine that was laying on the passenger seat for two months.

It took ten minutes after the road opened to get to his job interview.

“JT Roberts,” he said, walking up to the receptionist. “I called about a half hour ago to say I was going to be late.”

“Go right in,” she said. “Lynda’s waiting for you.”

He thanked her, and smiled at the thought, again, at dancing at the concert.

He knocked on the open door as he want in, “I’m JT Roberts.”

Lynda looked up, and he could not believe his eyes. It had to be fate.

He sat down, “I was just thinking about you.”

 

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