From This Window

I'm writing this as part of the RBJ April collaboration... "Look out the window. What do you see?"

It's just after seven on a gray Tuesday evening. The wind has picked up since this afternoon. From my seat in the windowed corner of this cafe, I feel like a display for the entire world to see. Okay, focus, what's outside?

Across the plaza is a nearly empty Togo's, which is next to a moderately busy hair salon. Across the street is San Jose State University. Students walk by on their way to night classes.

Ornate lampposts line the center of the plaza. White hexagonal bricks break the monotonous field of gray and seem to radiate from a point behind the luxury apartments across the way. Strokes of green marble, containing gold-lettered words written in Spanish, slice through the ground.

Benches, with green metal frames and brown wooden slats, sit back to back, across from the City Year office. Every now and then, somebody leaves the office wearing their hard-to-miss yellow jackets, black backpacks, tan slacks and Timberland boots.

A young woman, dressed all in black, wearing kneepads and black rollerblades, rolls by awkwardly. She attempts to make a turn before going into the street. Her boyfriend runs by and barely makes it in time to grab her arm to keep her from falling.

A tall, blond guy wearing headphones, a blue denim jacket, gray shirt and ripped jeans strolls into view. A black book bag strap crosses his chest. We make eye contact and not knowing what else to do, I nod while silently mouthing the word "Hi." He nods and smiles slightly as he passes me on his way to school.

The pace of the people tonight is unhurried. I take another sip of my hazelnut latte and cross out "blonde" and write "blond", which is the masculine form of the word. My attention wanders to the mellow music playing in the cafe. The woman sings in French.

I suddenly glimpse a slim feminine figure walking towards the university. From here, I can only see her back. She has long, beautiful black hair. She wears blue jeans and a dark blue hoodie. I wish she would glance to the side so I can see her face as she waits at the crosswalk. But she can't read my mind and crosses the street without looking both ways first.

I peer at the pocket watch I've placed on the table. It's time to go. I'll barely make it for the start of American Idol. That's all I saw out the window.