Fascination Comes in Different Colors

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I sit at my balcony watching the people walk on the street down below. Not very many of them interest me in any way. They all do the same thing. How are you? they ask each other. They respond with the usual well or great or fine or not so well. Sometimes they don’t say anything to each other.

My eyes shift from face to face. I move my eyes up and down their bodies. She looks familiar. I’ve seen her multiple times. She must be a neighbor. I’ve seen him multiple times too, always a few seconds slower than her. He must be a neighbor too. A neighbor a few seconds slower than her. She walks briskly. He walks a little less briskly. Whenever I see them, they seem to never speak to each other. They know each other. I can tell that much. I don’t think she likes him.

I watch as she turns the corner. I think she just got off of work. It’s dark. Maybe that’s why I think that. I think he just got off of work, too. I think she must be a nurse. She’s wearing shoes that look comfortable. He isn’t a nurse. He’s wearing yellow boots. His yellow boots are pounding the ground. The yellow boots are pounding faster. He’s walking more briskly now, like he’s trying to catch up. The yellow boots turn the corner a couple of seconds after the comfortable shoes. I can’t see them anymore.

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