I'd Rather Laugh Than Litter

I love to laugh. I feel like I have been laughing more lately than I had been for awhile. I am glad for that. Laughing makes me happy.

Last night:

I am sitting on my fire escape, enjoying a clove (which is nice from time-to-time), looking two stories below as a woman races down Hart Street on a bicycle. It is almost midnight and a man is running along the sidewalk, not quite caught up with her. Is there trouble? No, she is watching him and he is running with all his might, and she laughs as he tries to keep up, and then he evens the divide between them and begins to pass her place in the front of the race, until she looks over again and sees the absent gap. Giving a slight laugh, she pumps the bike pedals faster, clothes and hair rippling as the air rushes past, and she once again claims first place as the two of them dissappear down the street, hidden to me by the tree branches which cast a veil over the street below.

It is an amazing night out here. The air is cool. The stars, such as can be seen in the City, are shining. There is a slight breeze. It seems like a nice night for a race.

Sitting peacefully a few more moments and a car drives past below my iron perch. Out of the open window a man throws a plastic bottle into the street. One more piece of garbage to litter the neighborhood.

Really? Did you just do that, dude? In grade school I learned not to do that. And it's not like we don't have trash cans on practically every corner in New York.

*annoyed sigh*