I accidentally saw him one day. I was out shaking the dust from my rugs, he was circling his car after having gotten groceries. He walked clockwise around his car, knocking three times on each window, looking under each side of the bumper, would push each already-closed-door with 3 hefty pushes, and end this mad routine with a deflated sounding "boop."
He was my neighbor, this oddity. Wiry, restless hair - like the nest of a bird, except where the eggs should lay was a hollowed-out bald spot. His clothes were threadbare and stained, his shoes rotted from the toe to the sole. One would expect a better kept man for someone bound by such rigidity. After each lap around his Toyota - the knocking and noises - he'd carry another brown bag in from the grocery store. Even when the bag was light and under packed, it was one bag only, carried in his left hand. He'd shut the door, remotely lock them, the lights flashing on and off while he hit the clicker 3 times. He dawdled into his apartment, shut the door, only to open it seconds later to repeat the same process for the next bag.
It was an excruciating and fascinating thing to watch. Like a large and doting Ibis, he was. A squat body with only an illusion of height from his ghastly long legs, and his face that was forward heavy. It was like gazing on the wreckage of an accident. Out of privacy, you wanted to turn your head, but the curiosity kept your gaze tight and steady. I grabbed my rugs and was ready to head inside, to get away from this man bound by threes. I could walk in, throw my rugs down onto the semi-clean floor, and never think about it again. He however, had to put all of those groceries away.