The girl in the window. She sits there, still as a statue, legs crunched up to her face, her eyes glassy and watchful. She’s always staring out that window, her gaze always wandering to the children in the field, frolicking without a care in the world. She never moves. That window seat has become her home. And her ever watching eyes are always on the children, but for a small time. She’ll watch them all day, she’ll watch them run and play, and when they wave goodbye and walk away, to the doors of their homes, she watches their tiny feet patter into the house. Only when the doors shut, and a resounding echo fills the valley, does she look away. Then her eyes stray to her own door, where they fill with hope, sadness, and regret. They stay there, until the next day when the children come outside. When they open their doors to shout greetings at each other and to bathe in the boundless joy that youth brings.

Her face grows thin now. Shallow yet deep. She has forgotten how to eat, to sleep, to live. She only knows how to watch. To watch the children, the children that are so full of life, yet will be her death. The doors open, and her gaze once again drifts to the window, despair etched in her features. She watches them play. They run around and around and around. They dance with the lilies and sing with the birds. Innocence. Oblivion. Ignorance is bliss, they do not know what horrors will jump across their path. They know only the wonder of childhood.

The sky grows dark, the sun setting again. The despair is carved deeper and deeper into her face, the lines aging her almost instantly. All the children have run to their mothers waiting arms. All the children have wiped their feet on their mats. All the children have gone home. All the children have left. Except for one. A little girl stands alone in the field, her head tilted to the side, a smile growing on her face. She stares at the girl in the window, the girl that has stared at her every day of her life. The girl that, even now, still stares at her. She smiles at that girl in the window, the sun shining through her teeth. She waves. She waves and waves and waves and all the while smiles.

The girl in the window. She sits there, still as a statue, legs crunched up to her face, her eyes glassy and watchful. A tear rolls down her cheek. A smile flickers on her face for a moment, then begins to stretch outwards until a grin as radiant as the stars appears. She waves her hand hesitantly at the little girl. The girl waves back and then runs off to her house.