“Are you perving on the neighbours?”
“No.” He sipped his coffee and stared at the city’s skyline through the kitchen window.
“It’s a nice view of a wall of windows.”
“No. I’m checking out the chair.” He pointed. “Fourth floor.”
“It’s a red chair, so what.” She shrugged.
“It has a sign on it.”
“It’s too early and too far away to read.”
He reached to the top of the cupboard and pulled down his binoculars. “Here.”
“You’re a snoop.”
“I’m a birdwatcher. There’s all kind of birds that visit the nest, and it’s had five chicks this year.”
“Admit you’re spying on your neighbours.”
“Just read the sign.” Frowning at her as he handed her the binoculars.
“Okay, okay. Are you really into birdwatching?”
“Yep. I’m the scout. Just look at the sign.”
She peered through the lens. “The sign says, wanted. Why?”
She scanned the high-backed red chair in the middle of the window in a shadowy apartment. “Who lives there?”
“No idea. I’ve never seen anyone or anything else, except that red chair wearing its wanted sign.”
“Does the chair want a new home, a new bum for its seat? How long have you been watching?”
“A week. I check-out the nest in the morning when I make my coffee while boiling the kettle on sunrise.”
“You’re a boxer, bodybuilding bouncer who goes birdwatching.”
“It’s a hobby. Don’t you have a hobby?”
“Sure, but it doesn’t involve perving on my neighbours who have strange signs on their chair. They must know you’re watching?”
“What’s to see, except a red chair with a wanted sign on it?”
“What does it want?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m going to find out,” and she walked out the door.
“You watch from there, perve.” Her footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
He walked back to his apartment, closed the door, and with phone in hand, pressed the keypad to connect. “Incoming chick number six.” He hung up, stood in front of the window, sipped his coffee, and watched through the binoculars and waited. “Curiosity, best bait for serial killers.”