stevenjohn

As the golden light of sunset washes across the simple courtyard, the neighbours that I as yet do not know - and may never know - smile and laugh and talk in silly voices to their baby child. The girls with tattoos walk to their apartments and one cannot help but wonder if inside there are decorations of posies and girls in wide brim wicker hats bending over gardens and forming a stark contrast to the lives these women live on Friday night. A man without a shirt reads the daily news on the lone picnic table and he nods at those who pass (myself included). Up the stairs to my apartment door - it's painted bright red - I climb and my legs no longer complain the way they did the first day when I moved in (but this time I'm not carrying any boxes or bits of furniture, so that might be why). Across the road and the barren parking lot, the mall is buzzing with shoppers and high school boys and girls who must be speaking right now about graduation or perhaps they're still gossiping about the goings on at the prom last week.
I turn the key to unlock my door, the wrong way yet again - I'm still not used to this (it took me a minute to realise and turn the right direction). Inside, I'm greeted by the cool air and wonder how much it's costing me to keep it so chilled. My two cats - orphen and Felix - are nowhere to be seen but once the door is closed they scurry out from their hiding spot above the cupboards (above the fridge). I feel like writing, so I sit down at my laptop and moan silently to myself because I know it will be a pain (later on) to connect to the internet with my high-speed 26.4kbps dial-up service. As I begin to write, I wonder if I'll ever bother to show this to anyone and orphen makes his way silently into my lap where he curls up and goes to sleep.
With the last full-stop, I sit back and smile and know that things are finally as they should be.