There you are. Sweet beautiful creature, you. I’ve been watching the damned screen for days waiting for evidence to use in my case. But all I see is you. You’re wearing the pink shirt again - the one with the loose arms. I like that one. But those pants...the jeans you wore on Thursday would have been a better choice. I watch you squat down to examine the posies and I can’t help but feel something stir within me. Any minute now, he will be here to join you. Yep - there he is. He doesn’t like you, you know? He walks with you every day to the corner store for coffee and then down to the bus stop where you both wait for the number seven bus to Brinkman. And there you go. Look at you flirt. He’s not playing it cool. He’s taken! I have the footage! It shows the shadows of the two of them dancing horizontally. And yet, you keep trying. You poor pathetic thing. If I only had the chance to get out from behind this monitor... Here’s your bus. See you later. I’ll think about you till then.

Oh, look! A kitty. Oh, no! Don’t go there! Don’t...you’re one lucky little kitty. That nice man came to save you. That’s right. That nice muscular hunk of beef just picked you up into his mighty hands. Wanna trade places, kitty? Want to sit here while Charles Atlas holds me? I wonder if he’s one of us. Would he ever look at me? Damn, I can look at him all day. Don’t cross the street. No, no, don’t leave the camera’s field of vision.

I hear my captain behind me approaching, so I don’t even flinch when he bellows my name. “Wilson!”

I slowly raise my eyes to see him standing next to my desk.

“Yessir,” I reply.

“Any sign of that sleaze ball today?”

“Not yet. But he’ll show up. Maybe I should walk that street to get a better view? Maybe get to know some of the neighbors?” Cap has no idea that my reasons for going are far from professional.

I’m still staring at the screen watching a hot sweaty thirty-something jogging in place waiting for the green light. Oh, how I would like to meet those neighbors.

I hear him grumble something about keeping my ass where it is. It’s so unfair. I know where I want my ass to be.

While my unreasonable supervisor trods back to his office, my eyes focus on a new figure. He looks oddly familiar. Maybe from the wanted poster that’s taped next to the monitor. I can’t be sure. I need to see if I can get a better view. Like the one I have of the butcher’s son who just stepped out onto the sidewalk to sweep. His sinuous forearms flexing in the morning sun...