The sun wakes me up early, so I usually get to work before anyone else. If I beat my boss, I sit outside and wait for her to unlock the door. I don't care, I just drink café con leche and watch people go by, making up stories about what I think their lives are like. It's nice, living in my head. With all these delusions, I'm never bored.
Every day at 9:15 a guy comes around the corner from one of the offices down the hall, holding a bathroom key on a long steal-proof keychain and a magazine. He wears cargo shorts which cut off right beneath the knee highlighting his big muscly calves, a baseball cap, and a hoodie sweatshirt that is entirely inappropriate for the Miami summer but attractive on him nonetheless. I think he works for one of the music labels in this building, maybe Universal. When he walks, he shuffles. And he shuffles right by me into the bathroom to have some self-time with that magazine of his.