Yellow Roses

It is a busy day in building! There are a lot of suits running around. A lot of suits and pencil skirts. The first person I see today is a short, white man who is already sweating from the heat. In an effort to look professional, there is a loosely knotted tie around his neck. He has a nervous tick where his eye occasionally twitches. He hustles up and down the stairs. The first trip up he is carrying a box, but I can't tell what's inside. The second trip it's a handful of notebooks. The third is large sign.

A tall, white woman walks past in the highest heels I have ever seen. She walks wonky because of the extra seven inches under each foot. She clomp clomp clomps up the stairs carrying a small, cardboard box. Her tight bun is so tight it acts as a natural botox to her face because it pulls all of her skin back. Red lipstick, long fingernails.

The construction crew is here again. They're just finishing up, though. I see them packing all of their tools up, and as per usual, they're smiling. This morning, only six of them are working. They file out the door with their hardhats in their hands.

There is a click of janitors. They hang out together when they're not cleaning. I see them walk past me and all three of them greet me with me pleasant smiles. "Buenos dias, mija."

One janitor is a male, short and stout. He is bald and decorated in tattoos. Ernie, his name tag says.
The other two are women. Heidi and Marla. Their hair is done up nice and together they giggle about something in Spanish. All three of them are deeply Hispanic.

Because I am in close proximity and because I am also very nosy, I overhear a couple close to me.
 He is tall, dark and handsome. He's "that guy" with the great smile and curly brown hair that belongs in every Nicholas Sparks book. She is ruddy and plump in an adorable way. Her long brown hair and freckled cheeks fit her well.

Another suit and tie walks by.

In the Nicholas Spark boy's hands, there is a bouquet of yellow flowers. He kisses her on the cheek. "Yellow roses means friendship," he says. (I am witnessing a love moment in the building at 8AM. Who does that?) "and you are my best friend." I refuse to turn around and see her reaction because I'll spoil their moment. But I can hear her "ooh and ahh" over the kind gesture. I also hear them sucking face a few seconds later, so I'm assuming it went well. What a day to do an ethnography.

A swarm of executive looking men and women walk right by me. Chit chat CHIT CHAT! They hustle and bustle talking about things, I'm assuming, are of great importance based on their swift pace and assertive tones.

A lone student comes in. Her long blonde hair is in a braid and she is wearing yoga pants. She walks in the door and then down the stairs.

A tall man strides through the door. His thick black hair literally bounces with each step. Another suit and tie.

My hour is up.