People in the neighbourhood : The pacing techie on his smoking break

He hasn’t lived here long, yet he has already merged with the street furniture. Multiple times a day but also deep into the night, he can be seen at the exact same patch of pavement, between the bike rack and the speed camera. His uniform never changes: baggy grey sweatpants, a bomber jacket, and a pair of AirPod Max headphones acting as a barrier against the world. A phone is glued to one hand, a cigarette to the other.

Most of the time, he is a silent observer of his own screen. But once, in the middle of the night, I caught a fragment of his voice. Spanish? A rapid, rhythmic flow that felt out of place in the cold, sleeping street.

Though his spot is fixed, he is never still. He tramples and pivots, turning tight, restless circles while he smokes. It makes me look at the tiles beneath his feet.  I don't see the wear marks yet, but wonder how many miles he has walked on those few square inches.

When he finally retreats inside, a massive TV screen glows through his window. It is flickering with the neon green of a FIFA pitch or the jagged blocks of a Minecraft world. I watch the light dance and wonder: does he have a fixed spot in there, too? Does he finally sit still in the dark until it’s time for his next cigarette?

One morning I walked by and the snow revealed his secret. While the rest of the pavement was a blank fresh sheet, there was a dark, icy ring between the bike rack and the speed camera. A perfect, frozen orbit of a man waiting for a life that hasn't arrived yet.