My Neighbors Snake Left the Apartment

My neighbors are people of solid character. They have the consistency and pragmatism of the old-timers from way back.

But they're young, much younger than me.

A few days before Christmas 2021, the year they moved in, they had the thoughtfulness to string a line of warm lights along the external staircase leading to the apartment above mine. Since then, they've never taken it down.

Every year, they simply plugged it in around December 20th and unplugged it on January 7th.

That's it. True innovators of Christmas decorations. Practical, functional, decorative.

At night, the soft glow of their lights seeped through the slits of my windows like gentle blades. I'd fall asleep under shadows that reminded me of ancient things and paper-starry skies from Nativity sets.

In summer, when I looked up at the sky, I could always see that crown of dark thorns winding down the wooden column of the porch. It slithered like an Old Testament serpent, down to the clotheslines, weaving an amorous tangle that unraveled along the low wall of the staircase.

The last bulb, the slender tail of the serpent, hung near the first step.

Early this morning, I ran into him. He was already at the gate that opens onto the road.

He had a suitcase in one hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked at me, a bit embarrassed, then reached out to shake my hand.

He was saying goodbye. He and his partner had broken up. He was leaving. I didn't understand where, but he was leaving.

I watched him get in his car and drive away. Sad.

I turned back toward the house. The string of lights was gone.

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