Not Quite Voyeurism…

When I’m at work, my computer station is right along the side of a wall where there are two big windows. So as I stare at my computer, I have the most perfect view of New York that I could possible imagine right in front of me (complete with Empire State Building). It makes the day a little less boring sometimes when I can just look out the window and piece together all of the lives going on based on the various sounds emanating from the cityscape.

Directly across and below my window is an apartment building. It’s a rather nice brick building that has several balconies lined with plants and patio furniture jutting out from the four apartments that occupy my line of sight. One of those apartments contains a beautiful, dark-haired woman. Her windows are always open and the blinds are never shut. She is around my age (early to mid 20s) and is always in sight, whether she’s on her tiny balcony or in her room. I spot her everyday without fail and she’s usually dressed down.

I’m not big into spying on people but I can’t avoid seeing her. When I glance out of my window for even a second, she’s there. And so, everyday, I spot her and start forming little stories about who she is and what she does. She is very attractive (the building is not far away) and I can’t help but to stare at her when she’s on the balcony. Sometimes she stands out there, talking on the phone or just staring off. But despite the mundane activities, I always find myself watching her.

In some weird way I feel like I know her. The city is a place with constant social interaction but it can still leave you feeling isolated and distant. Your bombarded with success, promise and hope on a daily basis, but none of it’s for you. Maybe she feels the same way and that’s why she is on the balcony every day, hoping to feel included in some way. Each day when I look out over that massive view of the city, I think of the sheer amount of anonymous people out there. But now here’s this random girl who has become a familiar face in an ambiguous view. And it’s slightly comforting.

But, knowing my luck, she’ll probably move out as I finish typing this sentence.