No Events

Two men in lawn chairs smoke cigars. I smelled them before I saw them.

An older man in his yard, drawing pad across his crossed knees, sketches a tree.

A young guy in sweats and a ribbed tank negotiates a contract on the phone: “15% of gross profits…”

A couple walks their dog in front of me, arguing: “Cassandra said you would text me a photo once you finished in the study.”

A working actor’s support group meets up outside an apartment building. A young woman shows off her new headshot. Another woman approaches the group: “Gracie! Hugs all around!”

A man smokes a cigarette, pacing on the sidewalk beside them.

A pregnant woman walks a dog and eyes me warily.

A man bounces a baby on his knee on the balcony above.

Another man, shrouded by trees, leans over the roof of his building and looks down at the street below.

A woman idling in her car backs up to make room for a sedan exiting a garage. The sedan waits as several vehicles drive past; the streetlight must’ve just changed.

A runner keeps pace and moves around a couple pushing a stroller.

My dog rolls around in the grass beneath a no trespassing sign: “No events may be held in yard without permission of property owner.”