As much as possible, live life on your own terms. (500-Word Contest entry).
With silent distinction she crossed the intersection in front of a multitude of cars, her dress billowing in the wind and wispy white hair streaming. She condescended to use the crosswalk, but the changing colors of the pedestrian crossing signal were, to her, just that: pedestrian. Others could limit themselves to a few hurried seconds spent scampering across the oily, scarred asphalt if they so chose. To her way of thinking, all the time in the world was hers to use as she saw fit. If others needed to occasionally be reminded that life was too precious to fret about a few seconds "lost" at a traffic signal, that singular experiences - her appearance in front of them, for example - were meant to be savored and shared with others, then pitiful indeed, were their miserable lives.
People spend too much time cocooned in their homes, offices and cars, she always declared. They don't know how to enjoy the feeling of fresh air moving swiftly through their hair, or the sound of birdsong floating down from every tree. She escaped the cloistered confines of her own residence as often as she could knowing, even as she left, that the freedom would be short-lived. The hunt was on, she was sure, and would soon end. There was only one park nearby, and it always drew her as a moth to a flame. To be sure, the grounds where she lived were well maintained but, as she always reminded the others, the grass was inside the walls and, therefore, held captive even as they were.
Up ahead, she saw the minivan with "St. Anne's Home for the Elderly" stenciled on the doors pull over to the curb. She sighed. She hadn't made it as far as the park, this time; tomorrow, perhaps.