Oot and aboot in the hood

Call me the Mrs Mangle of the Inner West...

Walking down corridor of my block of flats, overheard a lady leaving a flat, offering one last yell in an argument before walking out the door and slamming it:
"...no WONDER all of your girlfriends are psychopaths!"

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Driving past a car in the car park, see something written in the dust on the windscreen of one car (I think belonging to the same unit mentioned in above incident):
"I did not use a condom on Saturday night 28/1"
(Is that what that fight was all about??)

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Notice handwritten and stuck on door of bargain shop:
"Due to family mishap, this store will be closed until further notice"
Handwritten note under the door:
"Dear X____ and Y____,
So sorry for your loss.
Hope things will be OK soon...
From
Z____"
(Names in this story have been changed to protect privacy)

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A guy limps around the courtyard of our building, doing a lap or so every couple of hours every day and sometimes I even hear him shuffling around in the middle of the night if I'm awake. Sometimes he has a someone with him, mostly he's alone. His walking is laboured, with a lop-sided gait, and his right arm clutches his left as if he has to stop it shooting upwards. His voice is laboured, mouth muscles not working as he is accustomed to. I reckon he's been doing this daily walking ritual since before E-chan was born. I wonder whether he was in a car accident, and think back to my post-labour left leg limp, which has pretty much recovered, and think I got of lightly. We've encountered each other, exchanged names, talked about casual stuff. One day, I hope to be in the right place at the right time, to be able to offer him needed conversation or company or even assistance, maybe even hear his story about what happened to him and when, but for now it's light-hearted chat about the garden, weather, and that ever-available topic of conversation, my baby boy.