It was late at night as the Girl drove through town. The lights were red at the intersection, but as she pulled up to the line, the light quickly turned to green. The same thing happened at the next stop, and the next.
Though she had a vague recollection of some nonsense told to her by a member of the public works commission about the lights being controlled by sensors, she knew the real reason for her good luck.
As each light transformed its hue from angry crimson to welcoming emerald, the Girl saw, in the periphery of her vision, the flashing of dozens of cameras as an unseen doorman consulted a V.I.P. list before lifting a red velvet rope and waving her through. Liveried guards raised their spears and bowed their heads as she passed. Fans cheered and threw flowers.
The Girl blew a kiss into her rear-view mirror. It felt good to have connections.
Just another night in the head of Drea M.