The most miserable whore

I was looking from the window to see when you walk in and out of the building. In the apartment I can not see because, despite the fact that our blocks are very close, you live "on the back". I've been following you for a while now, you know - i'm obsessed with your balanced walk, having stylish shoes all the time. I am obsessed with you, which logically would make me a crazy person ... but no, my dear: it makes me anxious.

I am standing in front of the window on my impatient soles, staring at the metal door of the "B" staircase. Ugh, come already! Today i'm curious about what woman you are arriving with: yesterday it was a reddish one and a bit vulgar compared to the rest of the ladies you brought. I suspect she's a slut you took from the bridge in your way home: i suspect actually that almost all of them are. There were also a few office colleagues – i knew that after i observed the little details with my superior intelligence.

You're a sad prostitute, my dear. You are a prostitute who works cheap - one in a black suit and with a tie correctly hung on his neck: it may be black, may be gray, does it matter? You are still hung anyway...

Oh, i’m seeing you now! Today you are with this blonde lady who’s wearing heels: she has a red lipstick. You know what? I'm sure you don’t kiss them on their lips - i guess it's your unwritten law not to get emotionally involved with anyone.

I believe you.

I see them coming in and leaving half an hour later. Half an hour?! No time for hugs, sweet talk or sharing the problems of the day. You’re just getting rid of your frustration and let them go, giving them money or not ...

But what a sad slut you are! How old are you? What is the job that makes you dress in such expensive manner? Who is your mother? Are you proud of yourself?

I do not judge you ... but tomorrow I will go down in front of my building and i will sit on the bench with a glass of lemonade in my hand. I'll drink it. You’ll come and approach me: „ Hey, do we know each other?” - so you will ask me ... i do not judge you, i say it again, but with all of your sadness reflected on my face, i will tell you that „You are a whore, my dear - the most miserable whore!”.