Okay, so call me paranoid if you will, but since we moved I really get the feeling we’re being spied on. It's a really weird, unconfortable feeling; especially that it's not the kind of strange-man-lurking-in-the-dark kind of situation. No, it’s a less obvious one, which is a lot more difficult to handle than simply applying a good dosage of pepperspray and a kick in the nuts. Let me explain.
As a matter of fact, I do live on an alley - but it's a bright alley! Well in this alley, there are plenty of small shops: a liquor store, a toy shop, a smoothie bar, a clothes store, a restaurant and a beauty parlour. All crammed on a linear surface that must be equivalent to my flat’s total surface.
When we moved in a while ago, we had a very angry welcome from the toy shop owners, as we had dared block their window shop for an hour on a Tuesday afternoon - as if hordes of parents were supposed to run on the alley at that precise date and time, unable to benefit of their special offers on ugly wooden eco-toys. They were yelling at the movers, all the while eyeing us every time we would go downstairs. They’re a couple in their 50s - judging only on their face – but I’m guessing they’re a lot younger than that. They both have the same shade of grey hair, the same kaki t-shirt, the same height, same jeans, same walk, and of course they are both heavy smokers. I hope they are twins or at least brother and sister, otherwise it’s just weird!
On the other side of the alley, the smoothie bar is unfortunately right in front of our entrance door. I say unfortunately because of the smoothie guy, of course. Now, the smoothie guy is someone I simply don’t trust. There’s just something not right about the way he gathers with all the other shop keepers on the street and chat while looking up to our window from time to time.
He’s trying too hard to play the cool guy who is friends with everyone and helpful to new neighbours like us. I find mistrust in simple things like: “I noticed you got a motorbike, that’s a nice engine you got there!” and two days later we’d get a warning notice from the police saying we’re not supposed to park in the common yard. Probably on the accusation of the Siamese toy-makers. Who were also possibly told by the smoothie guy that it’s ours. See where I’m getting at?
So, as a consequence of these small signs of either us being spied on, or me going crazy, I’ve decided to spy back on them! Ha ha, wait until the world knows how many smoothies the smoothie guy makes a day… or, or what brand of cigarettes Santa’s evil helpers so eagerly suck on thirty times a day… oh, wait, that’s not interesting… L
