Celia pedals faster. Her bike tires grind over the gravel, and her choppy brown hair whips all in her face.

She wipes away a beat of sweat dripping down her forehead. It’s hot, even for a summer day. She’s wearing her denim shortalls, a striped green shirt, and her red Converse— not the most practical outfit for a bike ride, but she knows it looks good on her.

Celia stops just before a cottage-style house with mint green siding. She kicks out her kickstand and looks up.

There, on the second story.

A wide-open window, its elegant white curtains pulled to the side, revealing a girl lounging against the sill.

The girl is around Celia’s age. She’s got long, straight blonde hair that blows gently in the wind. She’s wearing a pale blue floral sundress. Her bare ankles are crossed, and her hands are occupied holding a book steady in her lap.

The girl looks down at Celia. She waves.

Celia’s breath catches in her throat, and she waves in return.

Then the girl goes back to her book.

Celia nods once, kicks up her kickstand again, and pedals away.

It isn’t until she’s at least three houses down that she lets out a dreamy sigh. The mysterious window girl is….

Painstakingly beautiful.

Celia would die just to hear what her voice sounds like. She bets that it sounds melodic and soft, like the wind chimes out in her mother’s garden.

Celia would just talk to her herself, but she can’t. She’s got a ritual going: every day this summer, she’s passed by the mysterious window girl, reading in that same exact spot, and every day the girl has waved to Celia. Never said a word, but always waved. And Celia has always waved back.

The girl’s not always reading the same thing. In fact, Celia is sure it’s a different book every time. She can tell by the covers.

Celia’s also sure the mysterious window girl has a favorite sitting position. Legs out, ankles crossed. Sometimes she has her knees tucked up to her chin, sometimes has them fanned out like a butterfly’s wings. But she always looks the most relaxed when Celia sees her like she did today.

The girl also has a favorite outfit: a plum purple skirt and a loose white T-shirt. Celia knows this because she sees her wearing it the most often. She likes to twirl her slim fingers in the extra shirt fabric, bunching it up like a little rabbit’s tail.

But Celia would never dare talk to the mysterious window girl. No. Never. This is the longest any girl has ever wanted to interact with Celia— to look at her, even— and she doesn’t want to ruin it.

For now, she’s content with the waving. And the admiring.

Celia continues peddling down the road. She should hurry up, she thinks. Her brother is going to be home soon, and her mother will want them both to help her with planting the new tomato and cucumber seeds she bought at the store today.

Celia then decides to check the time. She squeezes the brakes on her bike, reaches into the pocket of her shortalls to grab her phone, and—

Celia’s brow furrrows. It isn’t there.

She glances down at her feet. She doesn’t see anything. She twists her head to stare back down the gravel road. Nothing.

It must’ve fallen out of her pocket at some point during her ride.

Celia turns her bike in the direction of where she came. This isn’t good. She can’t have lost her phone. Oh no— what if it’s broken? Her mother is going to kill her.

She pedals forward, retracing her route, her eyes trained firmly on the ground.

…So firmly on the ground, in fact, that she doesn’t notice the girl stepping out of the mint-green cottage house.

“Hey, did you drop this?”

Celia’s bike comes skidding to a halt, and she nearly flies off the handlebars. Her breath is coming in gasps. She turns her head. “Who said th—“

Celia stops. Mysterious window girl is staring back at her. She’s holding Celia’s lemon-yellow phone.

Celia makes a noise in her throat that sounds like something between a hiccup and a squawk. “I—“

“You can have it back,” the girl says warmly, holding out the phone. She smiles, and the sight is enough to make Celia’s heart soar. “But um… I was also wondering… if you’d like to come inside?”