My alley
I've started a new temp job at an office in downtown Knoxville. It's a rotten, stressful job (well, not too bad, but not any fun either) but I can't afford to be picky. And it has the benefit of windows looking out onto an alley!
I love alleys. I love the backs of buildings. I love looking in windows at night to see how people have decorated their houses (I don't look if anyone's in the room, though). And I love this alley best of all.
It's fairly narrow, about the width of a driveway, and the building on the other side is old gray brick with great big windows. Some windows have been bricked in with yellow-red bricks. There's a black fire escape that's kind of rusted, and a primer-red door on one of the landings with no handle that has a sticker on it reading "Safe n' Secure." The windows all have white curtains that never stir or twitch.
All this is great enough, but I have discovered an even greater treasure in this alley. From the windows in the reception area, where I spend most of my time, if I lean forward so I can look through the blinds off to the left, I can see two really huge windows on the first floor of the gray building, and just about the only thing I can see in those windows are two chandeliers--nice ones, with no burned-out bulbs, and glittering very golden in the darkness.
I might be in any city in the world in that alley. I like to pretend that when I leave work today, I'll be in Paris, or Vienna, or London. And I wonder about the chandelier room. From my boss's office I can see into it better. It has an oriental rug, which I saw someone vaccuuming the other day--a shadowy figure; it has paintings on the lofty walls and a big table under one window. From the second office down the hall I can see a third window, also with a chandelier, and a door leading to some back room. The door has a stained glass scales of justice in its front.
So is it a law office? If so it's a nice one. Is it a hotel that used to be a law office? If so it's also a nice one. I don't know--but I don't want to know just yet. My last day at this job (and that is probably weeks and weeks away, argh), I intend to walk the long way back to my car and look at the gray building's front. Then I'll know. Until then I can just wonder.
I love alleys. I love the backs of buildings. I love looking in windows at night to see how people have decorated their houses (I don't look if anyone's in the room, though). And I love this alley best of all.
It's fairly narrow, about the width of a driveway, and the building on the other side is old gray brick with great big windows. Some windows have been bricked in with yellow-red bricks. There's a black fire escape that's kind of rusted, and a primer-red door on one of the landings with no handle that has a sticker on it reading "Safe n' Secure." The windows all have white curtains that never stir or twitch.
All this is great enough, but I have discovered an even greater treasure in this alley. From the windows in the reception area, where I spend most of my time, if I lean forward so I can look through the blinds off to the left, I can see two really huge windows on the first floor of the gray building, and just about the only thing I can see in those windows are two chandeliers--nice ones, with no burned-out bulbs, and glittering very golden in the darkness.
I might be in any city in the world in that alley. I like to pretend that when I leave work today, I'll be in Paris, or Vienna, or London. And I wonder about the chandelier room. From my boss's office I can see into it better. It has an oriental rug, which I saw someone vaccuuming the other day--a shadowy figure; it has paintings on the lofty walls and a big table under one window. From the second office down the hall I can see a third window, also with a chandelier, and a door leading to some back room. The door has a stained glass scales of justice in its front.
So is it a law office? If so it's a nice one. Is it a hotel that used to be a law office? If so it's also a nice one. I don't know--but I don't want to know just yet. My last day at this job (and that is probably weeks and weeks away, argh), I intend to walk the long way back to my car and look at the gray building's front. Then I'll know. Until then I can just wonder.