NEIGHBOR FROM THE APARTMENT NEXT DOOR

By Mia Skaili

Everyday you see your neighbor hunched over in his orange parka and green rain pants, exuding nothing but a broken spirit, weakness and dejection. He's returning from having walked his four-year-old daughter to school; the only thing you imagine keeps him going.

He has a partial comb-over. The remaining hair is dark to light gray. He seems to be mid-50s and you wonder how he had enough life to create this sweet little girl that holds his hand. You think that maybe five years ago his life was much more virile.

You're certain now that he must be fallout from the burst Internet bubble. You're certain he must have been a successful financial manager who lost his marbles, who now spends his days pouring over the Wall Street Journal and Financial Times you see delivered to his door every morning. You know he must have made enough during the good years to keep his sprawling three-bedroom apartment, but that the rest of the situation is really pretty sad.  

This routine is all you've witnessed for over two years.

Then one day you find yourself not leaving for work until 10:30 a.m., and there in the elevator is your neighbor putting on a crisp, red-silk tie. He's in a suit. His shoes are shiny. His hair is slicked back. He scuttles off more quickly than you've ever seen him scuttle in his orange parka. As he gains distance, you notice his pants are cut high in the old-school, Brooks Brothers way. He has commanding posture and walks so fast his whole body leans into the wind. He's not unlike some high-roller banker in a 1950s Hollywood movie about New York.

Huh.

What do you know?

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