“Thirty seconds” It was a stifling, hot day. I was driving home from work, angry at the whole world: my boss had cut my bonus again, unpaid bills were waiting at home, and the car's air conditioning had finally died. The light turned red at the intersection. Blue ambulance lights flashed in my rearview mirror. The siren was literally drilling into my brain, irritating me even more. I thought, “To hell with you... I’m having a rough time too, I’m tired too. When the light turns green, then we'll go.” I didn't move an inch, staring blankly at the traffic light. Five minutes later, I pulled into the courtyard of my apartment building. A man was lying on the pavement by the entrance, and neighbors were bustling around him. I jumped out of the car, called for medical help, trying to assist. That very same ambulance I hadn't let pass at the intersection arrived. The doctor got out, looked at the body, then at his watch, and simply dropped his hands. “Heart. If we had arrived half a minute earlier, we could have saved him. But now, it’s all over.” I looked at the face of the person lying in the dust at my feet. It was my father. My little moment of weakness, my fleeting grudge against life had killed the person dearest to me. Now I have the rest of my life to look at green lights, only there is no one left to drive to. Stanislaw Jerzy Lec was right: “Life takes up too much of people's time.” But sometimes, just thirty seconds is enough to take away life itself.