Osher rested his elbows on the second story balcony and sipped his gin-and-ice, watching the evening hours slip by. The grassy courtyard below grew dark as one by one the lights in his neighbors’ apartments turned off. The warm summer breeze sent the leaves waving in his potted plants, and he filled his glass for the third time.
A voice cut into his trance. “Hey, white boy, this place ain’t so bad sometimes, is it?”
It was a woman’s voice, spiked with a Mexican accent. Osher turned to trace its source.
His next-door neighbor was leaning out from her balcony. A wall separated the two spaces, Osher could only see her and her him by leaning over the edge. Her dark eyes sharpened, inspecting him as she took a drag from a cigarette. She wasn’t smiling, but her expression wasn’t unfriendly.
Her scrutiny made him feel vulnerable and he turned away. “It’s got it’s moments,” he said.
“It does, it does,” she said, her gaze lingering.
Time passed, Osher sipped at his drink.
“Don’t see you around much,” she said.
Osher shrugged. “Different schedules, I guess.”