Much Ado about NOTHING

Stoop sitting is my latest nightly ritual. There's something about sitting on your front steps in the dark in a reasonably safe urban neighborhood that is both relaxing and intriguing. People walk past like ghosts, unaware that someone is observing them from the shadows, and I catch bits of mumbling into cell phones: "Almost home". Little domestic scenes play out in lighted windows across the street: someone is pacing back and forth, perhaps trying to resolve their mental dilemma; another figure appears to be seated as a desk, tapping a keyboard. Planes wink in the sky and dogs bark in the distance. Time stands still.