I sit at my desk in the dark early mornings and fire pink evenings and watch the walkers and runners from the corner window and wonder what their lives are like. I see the young couples leaning into each other on the hot asphalt with loose clothes and loose eyes. And the old couples walking apart stopping along the way to point at blooming thistle and lantana. I lie under the window at night watching the live oaks sway in the low wind as our tiny newborn curls on my chest like a moonstone amulet.