Game on

The block I live on is so quiet that any activity whatsoever can sometimes pass for a block party. At night, the streetlights turn everything a peculiar color, sort of like an artificial sunset that falls on the cars and the walls and the few people that make their way past my building.

One recent evening had more kids doing more things than I’ve ever seen on my street. Chasing one another, taunting, flirting against cars, and in the case of the jerk hiding behind that car above, trying to sneak in a quick piss in between rounds of hide and seek.

I heard his friend suggest that the stairs down to the garden apartment in my building might be a good place to do what I quickly decided was something I didn’t need done on the side of my building. I don’t think he was expecting me to come downstairs.

But when I politely asked what the fuck was wrong with him, he replied, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” “How sorry”,” I asked, as he ran up the stairs and tried to make his way out of the gate. “VERY sorry.” Good.

Ten minutes later, he was also very blurry, the game resumed outside my window.