The Professor

The man living alone in the two-house property adjacent to the apartment complex where I live in is an eccentric character. Before a group of men cut all the trees that covered his yard, it was filled with glass aquariums with plants inside them. Once during a storm, some of these aquariums broke to pieces after a tree fell on them.

Some nights, when I walk along Sierra Madre Street, I see him sitting on an old monobloc, his right leg raised on the chair and his eyes glued on his phone. I've never seen him exit or enter through the other side of his property at Data Street, my street.

Sometimes, I see him away from his house, sitting on the stairs below Upbeat at Raymundo Gate, standing at the parking space of a dormitory near Meister's, or sitting on the concrete barriers along Data where dogs sometimes shit. I assumed these are the spots with strong mobile internet connection. But once I intentionally walked as near him as I can to get a feel of what he exactly is doing on his phone. I saw that he was playing Pokemon Go and the spots I see him staying on where Pokemon hotspots.

In his laboratory,
gadgets galor—
but no wife.