Window

There was a girl, once.

I didn't know her.

But some nights I would see a flame flicker in her room before three candles on the windowsill were lit, and some nights I would see her lug the window open and stick her face into the cold air outside. Some nights I would open my curtains just as she did, and we would look across at each other and pretend that we were as alone as we felt.

There was a girl, once.

I didn't know her.

But one night, standing at an open window, she waved.

I waved back.