The Flamingo

Day 52

Day 52,

           Today, after making my tea and boiling my eggs for this week, I decided to make my occurring thoughts on the spectators walking past my home eternal through writing. I've been keeping an account of them for quite some time in my mind, but I fear if I continue this way, my mind won't be able to retain it all. Knowing that it all is very important, I will begin to take thought to written word. Why is this important and who is it important to? One may ask. It is important to me and thus, is important in general. That is how importance works, at least in my eyes.

          Anyway, let's hop to it.

          Today I saw the woman in white again. Her unfailing ability to pair a white beret and a white pea-coat always astonishes me. Her smoky skin seems to gleam through the contrast of the pure whiteness. For some reason, she has stopped peering inside my home. I feel as though she was curious, but she sees curiosity as something that runs out. I've always imagined her as someone who looks at the stars like they aren't worth her time. I'm sure she has some important job in the inner city. How else could she pay for her hat and coat to be so glistening white?

           The bum across the road slept for an alarming amount of time today. I timed it from yesterday due to boredom, curiosity, and the slight thought of producing results for a future scientific study. He has been sleeping for nearly twenty-seven hours! Someone should definitely check if he is still alive. I mean not me, but somebody.

           Allyssa paced up and down the street five times today. She's been cutting back and I think it's due to her new therapist. She called him/her during the fourth journey up the street and she was convinced by the fifth that her OCD mannerism were, and I quote, "Not her life, but instead stopping her from living it." Damn, that therapist must be good. I usually see here pace at least ten to fifteen times a day. She's easy to spot in her knitted green hat that engulfs her bird face. I hope her therapist doesn't completely solve her problem. I would miss seeing her pace, it's become quite the ritual for me.

           That disgusting couple had to walk by and ruin my views for the day. Their perfect little fingers were coiled around each other's. Both of their laughs sound like something bad actors would produce. When the woman stopped to pick a flower, which I saw more as an act of thievery than romance. The man reached in his pocket and checked the loud diamond ring he held inside it. I was less than surprised, but very sickened by this. This means they will stink up my window more and more each day discussing wedding plans and then children and then retirement etc. They are sickeningly cookie cutter and just false beyond compare. Though I despise them, I know they will last, because they both may have found the only person in the world who can possibly deal with them.

           Unnervingly handsome man walked by around noon today. I don't know why he bothers me with his handsomeness. I'm sure it is because of the green-eyed monster inside me, but part of me refuses to let that be the answer. I am more unnerved by it because of never resolved curiosity. How can he be so effortlessly good looking? I mean even today when he was speaking with his divorce lawyer for the billionth time, he wore distress like Gucci. I don't see why his wife is filling the divorce. Maybe she too is unnerved by his constant beauty.

          Something new happened today. When coming back from cleaning my teacup, I noticed a small stone on my windowsill. It frightening me a bit, thinking someone was planning on throwing it at me, but then lost the nerve. Curiosity, being my worst habit, drew me to it. It was small grey and spotted. Smooth. Almost like someone picked it as a peace offering more than a villainous act. I went to pick it up when I noticed the piece of loose-leaf paper it was covering. I slipped it out from under the curious stone. The blue lines were bleeding together due to the residue of rain left on the windowsill. In very light handwriting, which looked like it would fly off the page if given the chance, this was written:

I see you.

           I know it was written down, but somehow, I think I heard it whispered to me. Chills surrounded me to a point where I had to physically shake them off. No one has ever made contact with me before. Sure, some may see me glancing at them and we exchange awkward looks then move on with our day. It was an unspoken way of things to go. This was new. I've spent too long thinking I was the only one observing things on this street, but it seems that there is another. Immediately I felt a little territorial. Who was she? Obviously, it was a she from the light handwriting. What did she want to be the outcome of this small exchange? Again, curiosity got the best of me and I decided to respond. I mean it was the only rational thing to do.

And?

          Simple. Straight to the point. No room for misreading. Perfect. I placed it under the stone and washed my hands of it all. Then I literally washed my hands due to dirt that rubbed off the stone.

           I came back just in time to see Gypsy the toy poodle and her owner Tim. Tim is about, I want to get the number right, 1,572 pounds of pure muscle. Gypsy, his sole confidant, is significantly less in weight, but she hides it well with some stunning sweaters. Tim must be a body builder, because a body like that would just be wasted as an accountant. He always, unapologetically I must add, talks baby talk to Gypsy. It is inaudible to me from my perch, but I can always tell he is near due to its high-sounding pitch. It never ceases to amaze me that such a small noise can come out of such a large person.

           It wasn't till nightfall that I noticed my paper had gone missing under the stone. No return message took its place. Though, I checked vigorously for it. I scanned to street for any abnormality, but found none. All was the same, from the television from across the street blaring the news out the window, to the fifth lamppost on my left side still being burnt out. Nothing was different, but at the same time, everything was. How cliché. I'll seek solutions to this change tomorrow.