There was something communal about being stuck. Engines idled in a shared exhale; bumpers glinted with the same frustrated hope. For a while, all the private narratives people carried—interviews, arguments, secret purchases—suspended themselves like ornaments hung in a shop window. Delilah could have listened to the radio, called her sister, scrolled through her phone, but she let the quiet lengthen instead. She watched a child in the back seat of the car beside her draw a face in condensation. The child’s tongue stuck out at the concentration and Delilah laughed without meaning to, a small sound that caught the attention of a nearby dog and a driver who waved in return.
After analyzing the traffic patterns, Delilah came up with a plan. She instructed her driver to take a detour through a less congested neighborhood, and to her surprise, it worked. They managed to bypass the jam and arrived at the venue just 15 minutes before showtime. delilah strong traffic jamming