The traffic lights change and the motorcade stops. Mersiana runs towards a gray Volvo with her window wiper and her rag. The driver inside shakes his head, but Mersiana still wipes the windshield with the wet side of the sponge and pulls off with the rubber strip. Runs to the other side, does the same again, polishes with the cloth, back again, polishes the other half of the disc. All this in 15 seconds. She tilts her head, looks questioningly at the driver and holds out her hand. The driver shakes his head, then just looks straight ahead. Mersiana taps on the window. You have to be persistent. Maybe he’ll come up with something after all, and she won’t be able to make a second car before it goes green. “Come on, don’t be like that!” she says with her eyes. She raises her hand a little higher and nods encouragingly, smiling a little. The man in the Volvo sighs and puts his hand in his pocket. Well finally. Then the light changes, the man shrugs his shoulders, puts the car in gear and drives off.
