Windows Opposite

For several days now, I've been sitting on the balcony, watching the windows of the neighboring building. It's a small two-story building, inhabited entirely by marginalized and lumpen proletariat. Peeling walls, unpainted, half-rotted window frames of some apartments, dusty, dark glass covered with years of dirt.

Two apartments catch my attention.

A practically continuous stream of cats pours out the open window of one of them. Black, white, orange, gray, spotted, solid-colored, and striped. It seems as if the feline inhabitants of the entire city have decided to call this apartment their home. The strangest thing is that I've never seen the cats leave. They just jump one after another through the transom, disappearing into the darkness of the rooms.

The second one is more interesting. The window is so overgrown with dirt that you can simply step out without even jumping. And they're striding out, and how. Strange, emaciated young men occasionally pull back the gray curtain, glance around the yard, turning their dirty heads on skinny necks, then take a step forward...

... and disappear.

And after a while, another cat jumps into the neighboring window.