Paradise Lost

It wasn't small, really, this bare room that I stepped into. Yet it wasn't large either. I suppose one could say that it was just the right size for a room of its nature. In this moment it was decorated with cardboard boxes that haphazardly lined the walls as if crudely imitating abstract art. Yet someday, someday soon, the boxes would be emptied of all their belongings and in their place would be new items. There would be a good sized television that replaced the stacks of boxes on the far wall and a couch big enough for three people would sit just opposite it. In the corner, a brand new bookshelf that had yet to be assembled would replace the four small crates that leaned precariously against one another.

And maybe this room wasn't large, but it had space enough. Space for my television and space for my couch, space for a brand new bookshelf, and space for me. It had space for a new beginning, for a brand new life. For the true start of a life. Really, I couldn't have asked for more.

The box in my arms was laden with my memories and the bangles on my wrist tinkled in the imitation of Christmas bells as I moved my arms to lower the heavy burden to the wooden floor. I exhaled, my breath leaving with enough force to move the unruly bangs that had fallen into my eyes, and took a few tentative steps forward, toward the far end of this room that was not small and yet also not large. Perhaps "just right" was the term to use when describing the size of this room. Yes, I decided "just right" seemed perfect as I made my way to the glass of the window that took the place of my entire back wall.

I truly believe that it was the window that drew me into this room the first time I saw it, the window that drew my hand forward and encouraged it to form my signature on the dotted lines. It was the window that made me purchase my first flat in a New York apartment building. You see, the entire wall was a window! Plain white walls would need to be painted and lightly scuffed wooden floors would need to be polished, but how could I merely walk away from the pure magic of a window that took the place of an entire wall? The window had me at a glance, and it knew it. As much as inanimate objects could know such things, of course.

And now the window drew me yet again and I was peering down onto the pavement so far below me. I watched the movement of the cars on the street, or rather the lack of movement, the traffic in New York is truly as terrible as the rumors imply. I watched children rush to keep step with their parents who scuttled about as if they didn't have enough time in their days. I watched women on cell phones strut with such flawless purpose while in their stylish stilettos. I watched men with briefcases trying to simultaneously drink their morning coffees and check their designer watches all while hurtling down the dirty sidewalk at breakneck paces. I watched dogs break free from their leashes and I watched as their owners raced after them in pursuit. I watched the world, but the world wasn't watching me.

And then I saw it, the sideways glance that I was so familiar with. I saw it, even from this distance, on a face that I was not at all familiar with but that couldn't have mattered less. It was the sideways glance that was important, that quirky expression, not the face that made it.

After all, no person could ever make that expression quite as perfectly as he did.