Me? I'm looking out at the buildings across the alley and realizing just how deeply I desire their tiny windows.
Big windows are generally considered to be a good thing. Windows are...windows...out into the world, and more is better. We spend so much of our lives cooped up inside buildings that just the appearance of the external world can be the sweetest salve possible for eyes strained and tired by computer screens or magazines. The priciest properties in the city have walls of glass, the better to let in the light and allow the resident's eye to wander over his domain. One's corporate status can be determined quickly and accurately by the size and number of windows in the office.
So a big window, like the one I have, is generally a cause for celebration and pride. Except for one thing. You can't put a damn standard air conditioner in it. And when it's hot, like it is now, surveying the building next door is cold comfort when exchanged for a cool oasis. Even worse my big window allows me to see the windows of dozens of other apartments, and the exhaust ends of precisely 49 air conditioners. I feel like moses on the mountain, told by god that he can look at the promised land to his heart's content but entry will ever be denied him.
It's not a good feeling. And I can't help but think that behind each of those wonderfully standard sized windows lies an air conditioned paradise, with beautiful women reclining in comfort on clean silk sheets. The sheer material of their soft white shifts sliding quietly over softer breasts, their nipples proudly erect in the cold morning air. If I could only install this damn thing I could gain entry into that world, that pleasure zone that lies just beyond those drawn curtains and metal vents.
The air conditioners mock me, like dozens of block-shaped penises standing at attention, declaring dominance in clear and certain terms. My window is large and smooth with a too wide aperture, distinctly vaginal. They can expel the hot air out into the world, while I can only hope to take in. It's humiliating.
So I look out at their windows, so compact and convenient, and I feel jealousy and lust. It's not my fault, it says nothing about me as a man. How was I to know that oversize windows were such a dreadful curse? It's not my fault, but I can't help but think that maybe in some way I brought this upon myself. Was I arrogant? Did I take my enormous windows for granted? Did I spend too many hours peering out at the world instead of looking...inside?
I pull the shades, flip on my computer, and sit down to write. As the current pulses through the PC the room begins to heat up. The blinds aren't all the way closed. I look out again, and see movement in one of the windows of the next building over. What's that shape, could it be, a breast? Yes. She's standing with most of her body just out of my line of sight, but I can see her chest, bulging forward covered in soft white cotton fabric, so real and so close I feel like I could almost reach out across the alley and touch it, but I can't. I can see the promised land, a land of ice cold beauty, but there's nothing I can do about it. There might as well be a million miles between us. I'm stuck here in the heat, all alone. Curse these giant windows. Curse my ugly fate.
Wait, she's stepping forward now, into full view and...oh fuck. It's just a fat dude.