August 2012
July 2012
She’s vacuuming and singing to herself. Not that I can hear her, but I’ve noticed the slight lift of her chin and the tension in her brow when she sings. She’s dancing, using the vacuum as a prop. She hops lightly out of the way as the vacuum comes rushing back towards her, as if she weren’t the one controlling it and it had a mind of its own.
I can’t help but smile as I watch, my breath fogging up the window outside. I have no fear of being seen. The blackness of night makes me invisible. At one point she comes close enough to the window that I could reach out and touch her if the glass weren’t in the way. I could touch her eyelashes and feel the soft fabric of her shirt. I let out a sigh and shuffle down the dark street, already looking forward to come back tomorrow after nightfall.