James had gotten into a bad car accident this past week. Waiting in the hospital to heal up was hellish. Luckily, his injuries weren’t too severe, considering the crash, although his legs were wounded up pretty bad, both from the crash and from the punctures of the metal plates he had installed during his hospital stay.

Here James was with you now, freshly discharged, sitting on the balcony of his apartment with binoculars in hand and up to his eyes to view the ongoing traffic that had built up here on the freeway roads just outside of the building, in his boxers with his wounded legs halfway healed and bare. The sound of rushing cars, hell, even the ride home from the hospital had made him just a little (or maybe more) sick. Yet, a morbid fascination with the traffic had grown in him too, amongst other things. It didn’t help that it was slightly haunting him that the man he’d crashed didn’t survive, and that the man’s wife had been recovering in the same hospital as James himself.

“Is traffic heavier now? There seems to be three times as many cars as there were before the accident.”

James muttered quietly while lowering the binoculars in his hand to look at you instead. It was a crazy thing. Technically he was okay, but the sound of cars zipping by was louder than anything - they sounded louder than they did before his crash.