Their apartment is situated just across from my office at school - at the top floor of what I assume to be a three story walk up.
The very kind in which Husband and I lived in the early days.
Each day, I see one or both of the in their bathroom slippers and robes for frequent ciggy breaks on their balcony, to the railing of which is tied a plastic owl. They must be having problems with interlopers of one kind or another.
It is the middle of the day, during a space of a couple of weeks. Could it be that they work the night shift? Their faces are young but worn. Her hair is recently cut and colored and her nails painted a dark red, and yet she stands hard in her robe, sweeping the balcony of any dirt as she smokes the first of today's cigarettes. The broom remains at the ready throughout the day, propped in the corner of the railing.
They have a bucket for the butts, and neatly tuck them in, their hair trendy and their tv, and its endless talk shows, is almost big enough for me to read the subtitles.
They are watching Judge Judy.
He is pacing again - he's always pacing - now in a jacket and slippers, dressed but for the slippers.
What do they do, in their apartment all day? What has prematurely aged them so? Their faces grey, lined and unsmiling as they pace with a cigarette.
What keeps them trapped so, with only their balcony as an escape?
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2 comments:
OOooh that is a mystery. You can come up with daily theories. Maybe they run an internet porn business from their apartment. Maybe they've lost their jobs. Maybe they work in nightclubs. Maybe they are undercover police officers charged to look unhappy and smoke a lot.
And do they need names? Are they Lola and Juan? Or Cindy and Ricky? Jean-Francois and Marie-Josee?
Have I gotten too involved with this? ;)
You should figure out what they're up to. What they are doing is very wierd.
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