I opened my third-floor window for a moment to look outside, and I hear someone shout, “Good morning!”
It’s clearly from my Jamaican neighbor across the street, but I don’t see him down on the street. My eye scans the area and I see no one. I look up, and on his fourth-floor balcony, he’s waiting for me to find him. He says, “This weekend. Five and six. Ueno, near the zoo. Same time.”
I shout back, “I’ll be there!”
He didn’t have to tell me he’d be making jerk chicken. I love that he knew I’d know that part.

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