Driving home, I pulled up to a four-way stop sign.  An intersection that I have pulled up to a thousand times.

I looked right.  Car approaching.  I looked ahead.  Car approaching.  I glanced to the left.  Nothing.

Fine, my turn.  Then from nowhere, I saw a car slowly entering the intersection from the left.  What?  Honest, nothing was there.  Honest.

Shame swept across me, as I backed up.  I avoided eye contact with the others.  I hoped that the “appearing” car would not look at me.  Would not give me a sharp look.  Would not place blame with a glance.

Having the car to the left complete its journey across the intersection, I took my turn.  I ventured across.  Ventured across within the dark cloud of self loathing that I had placed upon myself.

No need to assign blame.  I knew my guilt.  I traveled forth in a realm of self conviction.