Yesterday she turned the light off when I looked her way.
It's inevitable.
She's across the way.
In the window.
With the light on.
In red.
Who wouldn't look?
Today I look away.
I look at the pigeon on her roof.
I look at the sky, trying to determine which will win today, the gray or the blue.
I look at the bamboo growing up from the other neighbor's garden and
the two stumps of pine tree that they have left to hang their hammock on.
The water boils and I stir it into my chicory.
Three drops of stevia.
As usual I think it will be too sweet, but I do it anyway.
I open the fridge.
I close the fridge.
I turn.
She is still there.
In red.
With the light on.
And she is looking at me.
