A seat at the table

Across my new apartment, through the window right in front of me, there's a couple who lives in that building, 2 floors up towards the right. It was a hot afternoon, a prelude to the summer that was just setting in, when I first noticed the couple sitting on the dining table. The man had his nose in a book, it seemed, and the woman sat there with a laptop. I didn't think much of it until last Tuesday.

Over the last two nights, I've seemed to be oddly captivated by them instead of the breathtaking sunsets which I usually enjoy from this one spot on my couch. I know it sounds very stalker-ish but I'd like to brush it off as simple people watching more than anything else. Its baffling how I managed to find a mere routine so captivating but I guess there's beauty in all ordinary things, hidden in some crevice or the other.

The first night, on Tuesday, I was closing my window blinds when I caught a glimpse of them setting up the table for dinner. The yellow lights cast a warm glow, almost as warm as it made me feel when I saw the casual exchange between the two, as they handed each other bowls and pans to plate the food. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, but there was something that didn't make me want to tear away my gaze from that scene. I assumed they were talking as they dined together, the hand gestures and heads thrown back in laughter being the indication. It is so mundane when you think of it - a meal had together with someone you see everyday. But this small casual act of simply existing together left me with more thoughts than I could've expected. I wondered what kind of conversations they would be having, asking each other about their days, or one listening while the other vents about a difficult coworker. Do they go over the grocery list sitting across from each other on that table? Do they know they have an audience, a 20-something woman across the street with questions and a look of longing as she watches Netflix while she dines alone?

Through the past year, my roommate and I have caught glimpses of them here and there. And both of us were equally mesmerized. Call it romanticizing the moment but I keep thinking how warm it must be to have someone waiting for you at the table at the end of the day. How nice it is to come home to someone setting the table and giving you the first bite of the food they made. Or how the table acts as a line of control when they would have a fight.

Just the knowledge that there's a seat at their table and it has your name written on it.