The 11:34 Wave

My neighbor waves at me every night at 11:34. I finally waved back.

I live in an apartment building where you can see straight into the building across the street.

Every night at 11:34 PM, without fail, my neighbor’s bedroom light turns on.

And he waves. I don’t know his name. I don’t even know what floor he lives

on exactly—just that his window lines up perfectly with mine. The first time it

happened, I waved back out of reflex. He stopped immediately and turned off the

light. The next night, I didn’t wave. He kept waving. Slow.

Stiff. Arm barely bending. After a full minute, he turned the light off.