When you cut me off

I’m driving. The road is open in front of me.

You’re stopped across from me, waiting to turn left across my lane.

There are no stop signs. There is no light.

I drive.

You sit there, in your car, signaling your impending left turn.

And then, just as I pass the point at which it’s no longer safe for you to turn in front of me—

You turn. In front of me.

You cut me off.

And I just want to know:

Why?

Were you distracted? Oblivious? Thirsty for adrenaline?

Or did someone wrong you today?