And I have this neighbor, I run in to her all the time when stepping out for a cigarette.
A proper muppet.
In appearance, tall, slender, dressing to great advantage, she has a certain style. "Pretty Woman" if you know what I mean. It becomes her.
But she's not well. On disability of some sort, she claims to have a heart palpitation, a weakness, condition.
I've seen her around with an older man, balding, sunglasses, reminds me of Hunter S. Thompson.
I ask her about him. She denies knowing him. I point out that I've run into them together in a few places, at the mall, bus stop, out behind the building. She corrects me, I saw a man near to her who looks like Hunter S. Thompson but she doesn't know who he is.
She's a muppet. She sits, desponding, for hours on end reading Rumi, the Sufi Poet. She has a dozen editions, different translations. She has loud arguments on the phone, cursing, swearing, walking up and down, waving her arms, she gets incredibly animated, her arms thrust out in front of her, 90 degrees, and then she runs up to them, bobbing up and down like a muppet, her eyes wide, eyeballs like ping-pong balls looking madly off in all directions, hair flying everywhere. I said she has these arguments while on the phone, but often she doesn't have a phone in her hand, these arguments, they're a rehearsal for when she picks up the phone. If she sees you nearby she'll abruptly stop, ask you for a cigarette or to push-start her car, normalcy resumes, you've interrupted her inner monologue.
Her car, apparently it's the source of a lot of her problems, according to the neighbours (a vituperative group of old ladies) she's behind on her car payments, hence she's always looking for a boost or to move it, she's afraid of it being repossessed.
Anyways, a proper character, and a good reason to start taking my cigarettes a lot further from my building...