South neighbour’s cooking Rice-Water for breakfast again. East neighbour’s warming her palm soup – at 5.55 am, would you believe? She’s a single girl living alone. I can tell by the unchanging sound of clicking heels the same split seconds apart every day. She cooked the soup during last night’s storm. I’ve never seen her, but I know she’s short because the heels never slip off. West neighbour’s sousing himself in his strong fragrance again. I wonder why he’s wearing his Tuesday-and-Thursday scent on this Monday morning. North neighbours are a little far off. The street divides their line from mine. At 6 am, the wife starts her Corolla – never 6.01 or 5.59, I’ve checked. The husband won’t come about for a little longer. Luckily, I’ll be long gone before his daily sinus evacuation starts at 6.15 – 6.20.
Semi-detached little houses huddling together. Anthropology.