The Lady In The Window. A Short Story.

screen-shot-10-25-16-at-06-48-pm She sits there, alone, every night, at her bedroom window, looking out into the night,contemplating, deep in thought, gazing silently into the night as she lights up a cigarette and slowly and deeply inhales and then exhales; feeling the feeling of freedom it affords her, and the anxiety it calms, and there she sits, people unaware, except for perhaps the orange glow in the dark .

She sits there perched upon her open window, wrapped in a blanket, blowing smoke into the night, watching the stillness below, imagining being the others and having their lives, and she dreams of love and escape, of another life, and she calculates how high enough is this window would the fall be fatal? Yet no one knows she’s there, every night, wondering , dreaming,and hoping.

Smoke swirls around her as she sits there in her solitude as she takes in the night, alone in her thoughts and fixes her eyes on a maple, reminding her of happier times, and a smile creeps across her face. I remember looking out another bedroom window and seeing one just like it! The lady in the window is there every night, thinking, planning, hoping, yet neighbours don’t see and people don’t know, she watches in silence, so if you should see the orange glow of a cigarette in a window at night…….