The bottom apartment across the street has finally been rented out again. During the first few months of the pandemic a resident there lay in his or her bed near the window looking at the street. Then it was empty for a while. The next tenant, over a year and half, developed a social life and eventually fled. After a while a younger fellow moved in, occasionally had friends over, then also moved out. And it was empty for several months after that.
All I know about the new occupant is that they have potted plants.
And a greater sense of privacy than previous residents.
They know how to use curtains.
Whenever I take a late night walk smoking my pipe, I note which windows show evidence of human habitation. Obsessively. There is a neurotic pleasure in seeing all floors of a building lit up, whether in an alternating pattern of lit versus darkened windows, or in a straight line all on one side of a building. Symmetries and recurring balance. And other details that mark me as obsessedly observant (seeing things because of oddity or regularity).
For the first time, that building was lit top to bottom on all floors on the right hand side, with curtains yellowing each window. It felt like victory.
Welcome, illuminating person.
No, I do not need help.
I think I'm normal.
Perfectly.
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