Rush hour

The herd rustles impatiently, rain sliding sheer off their backs. Focused intently on the goal ahead, but gridlocked and frustrated-stationary. Another creature wending almost silently through the pack, gliding - also wet but with purpose although fragile by comparison with the hulking mass around it. TENSION - palpable, almost falling with the calm raindrops from the roiled skies, and yet still stationary. A honk, an angry reply, in-sufferable gridlock - each entity trapped in the same once dynamic flow that brought it here, clotting. The herd shuffles, still not catching the silent cyclist but throwing it off balance as it winds forward, beasts squeezing together, apart. Elation as the bike slides from the end of the pack and into the darkness beyond.