From her position on the corner of a forked road, sounds are exaggerated by the uncertainty of her waiting. There is no uncertainty about her waiting, for we know that she is waiting. There is only uncertainty about its outcome.
Silence is lost, is loss.
She becomes agitated as those sounds erupt and surround her. Her beating heart mistaken for the purring engine of an approaching car. Desire is audible. Perhaps the stranger is arriving. Her heart beats that little bit faster.