He’s late; the speedometer read 70 mph. He jammed his foot on the brake as the light turned red. The traffic congestion stretched endlessly up ahead; trapped, he couldn’t exit the intersection. The call came in 15 minutes ago while in the middle of a business negotiation. It didn’t matter now whether he got the client or not, his primary objective was to get there on time. He had to keep his promise at all cost. The car’s engine revved, his heart raced and he flexed his fingers; his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. The panic set in and he considered getting out of the car and running instead. Even if he ran, he couldn’t run fast enough to get to Bedford Medical Hospital. As the light changed he stepped on the gas, flashing his hazard lights and honking the horn while swerving to avoid a collision with the other cars. Disgruntled drivers blasted their horns in retaliation. The silence of his cell phone screamed at him. His eyes fixed ahead, only veered to count the exits. He passed Exit 34; drops of sweat glided down his back, the ticker on his watch drumming the count of time. A few more miles left before he could exit and get on Main Street.