Prompt: In 200 words, describe a day in the life of a window washer.
Response: I see things. Things I'm not supposed to see. Things people try their best to keep hidden. I see these things every day as I scale the sides of office buildings - keeping it clear, keeping the windows spotless. I see soap opera politics and petty theft. I see people being fired and people being promoted. Today at nine thirty I saw a nervous intern spill coffee on her new boss and I almost fell down the side of the building, I was laughing so hard. I saw misfiled files and watched a romantic interlude in the mail room - all before lunchtime. Looking out over the city as I ate the sandwich my wife had packed for lunch I saw a four-car pile up on Main Street. I was too high up to see the people. It looked like an omniscient child was crashing cars – the faint noises sounded just like my son playing. “Crash! Bang! Pow!” At two o’clock a woman watched me as I washed – her gaze uncomfortably searching, her face so disillusioned. I saw deliveries made and interoffice memos exchanged. I saw groundhog cubicles filled with little people – people who might never go anywhere. I saw things.
Notes: It seems as though the last few days have been rather depressing and heavy so I made an attempt to be a little lighter today. I probably failed . . . but it's the thought, no?