By Roshni Riar, Staff Writer
I see the same faces
every day but none of them
know me. The white Honda
Civic with the rosary beads
hanging off the mirror, it
drives by me with no regard.
The dogs never stop barking,
never stop growling, their
snouts pressed against the fence
while I struggle to find my
house key. They remind me that
I don’t belong here. I am not
familiar. I rearrange my furniture
and watch families piling into
their SUVs, smiling and chattering
with purpose. I can’t remember
when I started peering through
my blinds to catch a glimpse of
what could be but now I can’t stop.
On a sunny afternoon, the girl
who lives in the blue house on
the corner rides by on her bike,
one hand on the handlebar,
the other gripping her phone.
The grey BMW that parks two
blocks over honks as it passes
and she swerves, pausing by
my front gate. My nose presses
against the dusty slats separating
her from me. She looks up,
catches my eye. I smile, contemplate
going down to say something to her.
She squints, scowls, kicks off the
ground and rides away.
I listen to her squeaky wheels until
they turn onto the busy road behind
us and get lost.
