on the rooftop.

i

LIKE THE NIGHT sky, like the sun, like the solar system, like the lyrics of a ballad, like the boy on the rooftop.

it was routine for me, a ritual, to peer through my bedroom window to where he sat. his eye against the lens. looking. always looking at something.

i sometimes wondered, does he not get tired of looking at the same stars every night?

it's not like the stars change. and besides, they're all alike so what did it matter if they did change?

then again, he didn't change much either. a jacket pulled on hastily, like he was always late in getting to the roof. the hair, always messy. and the telescope was the same one he had been using since forever. his spot on the edge of the roof was same as well.

there was comfort in his constancy.

i never knew him, nor his name.

but i always expected him to be there whenever i looked up.