Traffic Control

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Traffic Control


Traffic Control. © Igor Bissikalo.

Sam Shem’chlaki didn’t really like his job. Not really. More like not at all, even. If you think about it, you could pretty much say he hated it. Big time.

Being rooted on a side of the road, looking at all this traffic moving past… Happy people, not very much so, all going somewhere, smiling, frowning, talking, arguing… Moving. Bastards! Arghhh!

Sam was a traffic policeman, stuck to one place for the duration of his contract – placed on top of a tree trunk, rooted into one place day and night, summer or winter. A pair of binoculars and a whistle… A smart phone… Not an iPhone or anything but still.

Actually, it was quite OK at the beginning – first five years or so. After ten, he have had enough. Getting close to fifteen he started to feel he’s getting a bit mad. All this traffic… Day and night… Moving. Moving. Moving!

Good thing, Sam didn’t have a gun.


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