They are painting our building.
They came without warning. There was no notice, no announcement. One day there was a truck and buckets, and paper taped to our windows.
Soon the building was turning blue. It started at the rear and crept toward the front, swallowing everything up.
This has happened before, but not to us. The building across the street, it has the same landlord. It turned blue about a year ago. Now it's as though it always was.
Think hard, what color was it before? Was it like ours, a sort of pinky-peach color? Was it beige, or yellow? Impossible to say.
We do remember this: When it turned blue, it seemed not to be an improvement. To be sure, that building needed a coat of paint, as did our own. But the way it turned, out, with alternating panels in light and dark shades of blue, gave us pause.
We looked at the chipped pink paint on our own building and wondered, would we be next? But the painters never came. We considered ourselves blessed.
But now the blue has returned with a vengeance, and it has infected our own. It appears even brighter than the blue across the street. It is the bold blue of a crisp sky on a cloudless day. It seems to invite birds to fly straight into it, except that the building is not tall enough. It is candy-colored.
The fences are turning blue, also. They are a darker yet bolder shade that is even more ridiculous.
The blue is tacky. It is cheap. Who paints buildings blue anymore, anyway? What is this, 1950? And furthermore, why this gaudy shade?
We shall have to accustom ourselves to telling people "the blue building" rather than "the pink building" when giving directions.
The pink was a bit kitschy too, but it worked, and it had the dignity of age. Alas, it is all but obliterated. In a few days, if not already, it will be gone. And soon enough it will be as though it never was.
Fare thee well, pink building. You shall live on in our hearts.