After another hour, the whole procession of protesters had made their way to another part of the city and were out of sight. They hadn't accomplished anything tangible that I could see save for the littered beer bottles glinting in the low winter sun. Some stragglers encased in black clothes darted across the street, apparently trying to catch up. The last police car turned off its flashing lights and drove off, leaving the street free again for traffic. A driver finally zipped underneath my window as two pigeons settled on a powerline.

Elisa was slumped against the wall while perched sideways on the window sill. I didn't like seeing her just a few inches from a lethal plunge nine stories below, but I didn't say anything either. "Sleepy?" she asked, yawning. 

"Not really," I said. "I'm just sort of in my own head." 

She smiled at me and stared into me. I stared back into her and put my hand gently on her thigh as she came down from the sill and kissed me, her standing, me sitting in a hard wooden chair. I felt her vibrate and then she relaxed. The February sunset cast warm shadows onto her cheeks.

The kiss was clumsy, like we were drunk, even though we weren't. I don't know if I would have kissed Elisa if we hadn't spend the afternoon watching the protest below in the unseasonable sunbeams. She probably felt the same. I guess something about watching a stream of people muster themselves to such a great spectacle of futility made us want to something real and achievable. It was our quiet counter-protest. It wasn't the kind of kiss I had ever known. I wondered if it was a mistake, if it was sinister.

"I have a boyfriend," Elisa was the first to speak. I probably already knew this and just stared out at the pigeons. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"There's a girl, but she's far away and we aren't together. It's complicated"

As the late light waned so did the magic of the moment.