window

I can see him – the one the moms refer to as ‘Hot Dad’ – from this window. I can watch him from a bare window sure that he will never look up and actually notice me – he, meanwhile, moves secure in the knowledge that he is alone.

He moves differently when he believes no one is watching. His movements are sure. Apparently his clothing is dirty, he constantly sniffs it, scowls, rummages through the car like an energetic bag lady and pulls something else out. I don’t know what good this does anyone since the clothing all lives in a giant ball, but it placates him.

I wouldn’t mind at all if he did notice. I’d wave.

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