diary / by Edward Mullany


This morning, after I’d made coffee, but before I’d sat down at my desk, where the computer is at which I write, I stood at the window that looks out over the courtyard between the building I live in and the buildings on the other side, and saw, in the window of an apartment across from mine, a person who happened to be doing what I was doing, standing and looking out, with a vacant expression on their face, and a mug of coffee in their hands, as if our lives just then had decided to align, or had been made to align by way of what we were doing, though this person didn’t notice me until after I’d noticed them, at which point I lifted my head at them, and smiled, and was happy when I saw them smile back.