i watch the accountants. their cubicles face out to the street, and i peer right in, sight uninterrupted by unsmudged glass.
one has a small television set. he watches a sports cable channel, leaning all the way forward until his nose is nearly pressing against the bright red uniforms. now against a shot of pure green grass. now against a face fixed in frustration.
the next one has his web browser open. he always wears a white shirt and a dark tie. his web browser is always on msnbc.com. he is always folded forward, elbows on knees, despite the desk right in front of him.
the next cubicle is empty yet.
the last one is looking back at me as i walk past. i am too confused at this new development to stop looking. he doesn’t smile, or show any indication that he sees me, but he sees me … he does see me, doesn’t he? he knows i’m looking in, infringing, keeping watch over, invading.
it’s this one i forget everything about, except eyes to eyes, the split second of what am i doing here, and who is this person looking back?