Windows

I have a habit of looking up at lighted windows when I walk down the street in the evening.  I wonder what is going on in those apartments:  people eating dinner, talking, practicing the clarinet, arguing, wondering about the next day and the one after that.  So many stories swirling through my mind -- millions of people here, each in a tiny orbit, one around the other, so many jammed together in one building and then the one next door and the one next door to that, all on a single city block.

Across the courtyard, there is a service entrance that has an amber light above it.  It goes on during thunderstorms or when the light is dim enough.  It is on tonight, making spooky patterns on the blinds.