The sky is overcast with dark grey streaks signalling rain. She wishes she'd worn shoes instead of sandals that flap against her heels, flicking bits of loose Tarmac as she waits to cross the newly laid road.
Rush hour traffic buzzes past, exhaust fumes mingling with the oily smell of bitumen, catching her throat. Same walk to the same supermarket, same time, same route she's been taking for a number of years since her youngest started full time school.
The lights change to green. She continues her walk.