Last night was the first time I saw it, the first time I was sure. I had been hearing noises out on the balcony for a few weeks. Not my balcony--the one next door. And not every night. But last night I looked out the window and I saw dark blue material flutter out in the breeze before he pulled in his cape and shut his window. That's when I knew.
It sounds crazy, I know that, and maybe I watched too many cartoons as a child. Maybe it's just something I want to be true. But the thing is, it fits. He's a taxi driver, so he has an alibi for showing up anywhere in the city. He probably drives around tuned into a police radio. He can work odd hours--it doesn't matter. Very private personality. He doesn't quite have the All-American vibe that so many superheroes have, but they don't all have to be that way.
There it is: I live next door to a superhero. But I can't go ahead and tell him that, can I? I imagine the conversation going something like this:
Me: Oh hey, so I figured out who you are.
Him: Sorry, what?
Me: I figured out [meaningful look] who you are. The cape, coming and going throughout the night. I know you're the--
Him: [feigning confusion] I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about.
Then he brushes past me and rushes off down the hall.
Actually, after I said hi I'd probably be distracted. I'd be thinking about what it feels like to fly over the city, the way he does.