Mirror

This is the second time I've seen him. He's sitting on the window ledge that leads to the fire escape. It's a very New York sort of scene so I open my hotel room curtains to take a better look.

He's drinking a coffee and smoking a cigarette - knocking the ashes off against the brick wall. Wearing sweats and a hoodie and with bare feet resting on the cold metal stairs, I think he's just woken up and is trying to summon the energy to get on with the rest of the day. I wonder what he's going to do today. I wonder where he works and what his apartment is like. I wonder if he lives with anyone else. I wonder if maybe he's just a tourist like me.

Maybe he's sitting there quietly watching people flow past on the street and contemplating their lives while I'm contemplating his. He slowly crawls back inside and closes the window and I close the curtains. Maybe he was just having coffee and maybe I was really thinking about myself. He's gone now though and I should get on with my day too.