I love honking my horn at foot traffic.
This habit posesses me like my coffee addiction.
I revel in their response.
For that one split, singular moment, I own them--wallowing in the utter control over their nervous system.

My eyes catch sight of them, two folks walking on the sidewalk--heads down to withstand the cold, walking briskly to shorten their travels. This message is sent to the nerves controlling my hands and fingers. They press the horn button. Ears pick up the sound, relay it to recognition neurons which decide it is a horn. Curiosity piques. Several neurotransmitters fire in unisen like spark plugs--they all agree to quickly glance up at the source of this noise. Only to see me, at which point the entire process dies--like the male organ after sex.

For this one small moment of both of our lives, I own them. My actions dictate theirs. All that is required of me is a energyless movement of my hand. And I force their reaction.