1. The neighbor on the window

The parrots leaned, curious with the street ush. They peeked off the sill of the first floor window. Nothing too high, and maybe because of the proximity, the crowd grew...it kept growing and with it the voices, the whistles, the insults... one waited for them to grow really close. But they didn't. The afternoon was glowing pink in the horizon and the parrots peeked. No one looked back, or sideways, no one faced no one, their eyes dilated, expecting something to happen, just something. The eyes reminded you of dying fish. Their stomachs contracted at the same proportion their eyes gulfed out. A sort of fear coming from the unknown, the unexpected, the absurd. One man alone moved, a tall, shiny hair man shamelessly passed his hand on her buttocks.  "Uhmmmm," he said. She didn't budge.
Or better saying
her butt
didn't budge.
From the inside, one of two things:
she was either laughing
or throwing up.
Her husband
was not
a predictable creature.
.