I Live In A Very Big World

We are assembling at the elevators at work to go to some sort of social function together. I take the elevator down ahead of everyone to use the bathroom, then while waiting, wander into the next room. This turns out to be my high school gymnasium, where either the JV squad is playing, or the varsity team is playing an exhibition game. I wander accidentally onto the court, but no one notices or cares, and I quickly walk up to the stands and watch for awhile. A player runs down the court as if dribbling, but he is sorting through his mail, tossing aside junk mail here and there. It is Friday evening. I wander home. I live in on the middle floor of a three-story condo-like structure. In the fading light I drink a glass of Pinot Grigio and sit on the steps and look out the window. I have a great view of downtown Seattle and the water behind from here--how can I have never noticed this before? I walk down into my living room--in fact I have a sweeping 180-degree view of all of this. Strange, you'd think I would have noticed this. The wine I'm drinking is amazingly delicious. I remember that L. has moved from the East Side and has just taken an apartment down the hill from me. I should call her. But I don't want to just yet.