black grid orange light

At my friend's house there's a sliding door in the kitchen that leads to the deck. After dinner I stand on the deck. I look into the blue and orange sky and I see a cloud that resembles a wavy potato chip. I look down the street and see that all the decks at the other houses are vacant, except for one, three houses down the street, a mother stands on the deck to call her son on the bike to wash up and come inside. All the other houses with their vacant decks look disowned, unowned, as if they are rented out to people of an indifferent temperament, or perhaps the houses themselves are actually vacant. Tall white blinds hang there unmoving. The east view sees a low-rise condo with plenty balconies. The west view sees a condo under construction. The sunset is visible through the black grid that is the building's frame. Once the condo is built, the people occupying those floors will surely have the sunset for themselves, and me, from the deck, will only see the orange light that surrounds the structure that will surely look blacker and heavier to me than it does now.