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The street lights were blinking as I drove home the other night. This rarely happens, as I am getting old and usually turn in much earlier than the city street lights. It was an odd sensation—driving down the deserted streets with no other cars around. It was difficult to not fully stop at all the corners, even though the yellow lights were telling me to do otherwise. The one blinking red light I encountered seemed to be out of sync with the rest of the city. Instead of the steady blink..blink..blink.. of the other lights, it had more of a blinkblinkblinkblink thing going on. These are the things that stick with me when I am writing about surroundings. I think I may have to use the blinking traffic lights in my next story.