little things

three

She watched the tiny window. It was only big enough to fit a face if one were to look out. No face ever did look out. But she liked to imagine that one day the man who occupied that top level of the apartment across the street would one day look out of it.

At night it consistently emitted a soft orange glow, and occasionally this soft light was enough to reveal movement of someone inside. A hand passing by as it reached for something or as the man who it belonged to stretched, she liked to imagine.

With a drink in her hand and a cig at her lips, she would watch that tiny window as the city lights lit up the street below and all around. She would watch for a glimpse of the man. Of course, she would never be able to recognize him if they crossed paths in the daylight. Or even at night. She had only seen glimpses of a shoulder, hair, a hand, an arm...

It was only by her faithful watching every night that she had discovered he was indeed a he and not a she. A mere week ago she had stepped out onto her balcony after a long fit of rain, thunder, and lighting. The perch she usually set her drink down on was dripping and she was reluctant to get her clothes wet by leaning on the perch as she usually did. Taking a drag from her cig she had glanced down and by some stroke of coincidence seen a man below. He was sitting alone on a bench outside the apartment. The benches were padded with little tables set out in front of them, as the first level of the place housed a small patisserie that was often busy during the day. But at one in the morning, the streets were vacant. They usually were, despite the close vicinity to the heart of the city. However, the Wednesday night made sure that they were on this evening, particularly empty.

The fact that he sat alone was not what caught her attention. It was the way he sat slumped as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. His phone lay on one of the tables in front of him but he seemed to have taken an interest in the pavement under his feet rather than the device that could surely distract him from whatever turmoil seemed to be bothering him. She watched as he eventually reached for something on the bench next to him, unscrewed the cap, and brought it to his lips, taking a swig from the small object.

She imagined that he was attempting to drown out his troubles in the oblivion alcohol could bring. It was then that he looked up. She felt her breath catch, at once hoping that he would catch her staring while also hoping he would not.

The distance between them was too great for her to tell whether he was an attractive male or not. And so she could not tell if he was looking at her when his head was tilted up as it was. Nevertheless, she ducked, hoping once again that he had seen her but also that he had not.

It was only seconds later that she straightened and peered over the edge of her balcony once again to watch him, curiosity taking precedence over any other feelings. He was no longer looking up, seeming to once again take fascination in his shoes and the pavement underneath them. Briefly, she wondered what would happen if she went down the elevator the 4 floors to meet him. But that would be stupid. She did not know who he was and she did not know if he was dangerous. Everyone at night seemed dangerous unless they were at a distance. She knew that once she left her apartment and was only across the street from him, she would be too frightened to take any steps towards him.

And so she continued to watch him from a distance. Once again he tilted his head back as he emptied the contents of the bottle that had been sitting on the bench beside him. It was then that he stood and walked to the trash bin a couple steps away and threw the bottle inside. It emitted a clink that resounded through the empty street as it made contact with whatever else was inside from deposits made earlier in the evening.

She watched then as he walked back over to the table, picked up his phone and then made his way inside the apartment. She had not expected him to be a resident of the building he sat in front of, but now that she knew he was, she watched with bated breath to see which floor would light up as he entered his apartment.

The breath left her lungs in a swift, surprised exhale as the tiny window that always drew her attention, lit up.