She lives in a high rise, and I’m the pervert, watching her through binoculars. I don’t mean to be creepy, but she’s just a goddess, and I am a flea. God, I love her. This is how it has to be, doesn’t it? — Watching through the binoculars from my couch. The light just came on in her apartment. She sets down her purse, pats the dog on the head, and then, as usual, heads for her bedroom. On the 30th floor, curtains aren’t a priority.