Stamford Looks in

Stamford was standing in the bushes staring through the window at his empty living room. It looked good from here, so good that he spent a quarter of an hour admiring the silent room.
"Damn!" He cursed softly to himself. Than he extracted himself from the bushes and went inside.
Silence greeted him and he felt let down. Outside the living room had been an expression of contentment but inside, inside it was only empty space. Sure, there was a tasteful pottery barn couch and a subtle mix of both reproduction and antique furnishing, but, something was missing.
Stamford went back outside and stood in the bushes. Oh, yes! The  afternoon light was slanting and creating warm squares on the floor,  the entrance of the hallway coquettishly suggesting even deeper domestic contentment's.
"What am I missing?" Stamford asked allowed.
Just than the bushes rustled and he was joined by his massage therapist.
"Ready to release some toxins from your muscles?!" She cried.
"I guess so, go ahead and get set up. I am going to ask that you set up the table in front of this window." Stamford gestured at the window. " "After I see that you are all set up I will come in, make sure to set up right in front of the window so I can watch."
The massage therapist departed. Stamford hoped that watching her set up the massage table would deepen his enjoyment of his living room. If he saw equipment being set up occupying space, and than, and than walked in and began to use the equipment,maybe, there would be some type of payoff, emotionally speaking.
The massage therapist, for her part, effortlessly unfolded and draped the table. She set out towels. Than she turned, smiling, towards the large bay window.
The smile was not reciprocated by Stamford, he sighed, and made his way towards his double pine front door.
 Once inside he undressed quickly and lay on his stomach on the table as the massage therapist worked on his shoulders he tilted his head towards the bay window. Here in his tasteful living room with toxins escaping his muscles the leafy shrub looked enticing.
"That window, whatever side of it I am on, I long to be on the other side."
"Shh," responded the massage therapist. Soon Stamford slept.
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The next morning found Stamford standing in the bushes, this time in the side yard, gazing at his bedroom.
"It looks good" Stamford said out loud. His next door neighbor joined him in the bushes.
"So Stamford, wanted to ask you, were you standing here early, like three in the morning."
"Probably" Stamford answered still gazing in the window.
"Yeah, well, its freaking my kids out, do you think...."
"Screw your kids, okay, your kids freak me out with their high pitched screeches and tiny hands, i didn't buy a house with a side yard to NOT stand in my fucking side yard."
"Rude, you are a rude man."
"I am a man standing on his own property minding my own business, you came into my side yard and told me how to live my life."
"I wasn't trying to tell you how to live your life, I was hoping if you knew that you were frightening my children you would confine your standing in your side yard to daylight......"
"I will confine nothing, good day to you sir."
The neighbor departed. Stamford stood in his side yard awhile, but,  the neighbor had stolen something from him, it wasn't fun anymore. He stretched and casually made his way into his house.
Once inside he grabbed the keys to his eggplant P.T cruiser and went for a drive. He felt dissatisfied, he craved a bit of distance from his house.He drove for several hours when he grew tiered he pulled into a days inn parking lot.
Stamford strolled into the office.
"yes, I need a room with a big window that I can stare through, I am going through something."
"of, course we can accommodate you, Sir, I have just the room for you."
"Indeed," cried Stamford he was deeply moved by the hotels receptionist.
"Do you have any baggage?" He asked.
"Not the kind you pack things in."
"I see, your room is up those stairs to the left, there is a balcony so you can  turn around and stare at the room through the slider.
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 Stamford's room was tops. There was a cement balcony with a large sliding glass door that he could stare through. Something about being able to slide the door open and step immediately inside was a deeply  satisfying experience.
"All windows should be sliding glass doors, even small windows could be tiny sliding glass doors!"
He stood around on the balcony looking back into the room for some time. It was so tidy and generic. What life was anticipated here? The compact wet bar,  the neat white blanket. The art! Oh the innocuous prints of plants and apples, nothing was upsetting or bold. His favorite thing was the narrow one drawer table/desk. Elegant in a pool of yellow light, erect in anticipation of the emails that would be sent and received there.
 The sun was sinking below the horizon.
The terror!
  On the balcony next store a young woman came outside.
"Would you like to have a drink with me" Stamford asked the young woman
"I am fifteen, I am here with my parents."
"So, no?" Stamford asked, the young girl sighed and stepped through the clear glass portal into the room she shared with her parnets.
Stamford slid open and closed the sliding glass door, so quiet on its runner it bothered no one.
And so the night passed.................................