Rainbow Connection

My neighbor's bed is about nine feet from mine. The same can be said about our toilets. Four of my windows face her apartment building. I've never seen her. I don't know if she is a "her". Then how do I know? My former roommate claimed to have seen a woman in the apartment. That might not have been good enough for Henry Fonda, but that's more than enough evidence for me. She has a black cat. I have a bit more evidence to support this statement. First, she has two black cat stickers on one of her windows. Second, on most days the cat sits double-framed, peering into my kitchen window. To be fair, if my neighbor had pickled herring each day, like yours truly does, then I would stare longingly at her kitchen window, too.

I'm not interested in meeting my neighbor. I don't imagine walking by water fountains and making jokes about bidets or singing "Let's Spoon the Night Together" under a moonlit sky. But I am interested in having some kind of connection with her. Maybe one day after a thunderstorm, we both will open our bathroom windows and a rainbow will appear, one that starts in her toilet and ends in mine.