Even when “Someone” seems mad, I still love the view from my room.

It’s Monday, October 4, 2010. I yank the cord, and the blinds zip up the pane.

I don’t feel like a spy; I’m not close enough to be spying, but I want to catch up on the day.

It’s like how I know my roommate is in her room, because light strobes from under her door, and shadows flicker.

The mountain conceals enough to hide exactness yet reveals enough to spark curiosity.

Damn my curiosity.

There may be no mystery: the joke may be on me. I wait, regardless.

In less than fifteen minutes, the glowing vagueness dissipates, and only clear blue emerges.