I know a thing or a two about the open window. Or so I thought wistfully. Curiosity had gotten the better of me. Every day I started spending some time looking at the window perched on the first floor across the street. It had sheer curtains strummed across which waltzed with the wind. Days went by yet, I couldn’t see anyone in the house. I persisted, the open window had caught my fancy. It was one afternoon, when I looked up from my book, I saw or I think I saw someone for a fleeting second. I could sense the excitement tingling in my fingertips. She passed the doorway in a haze. It took some time to rewind that moment, in slow motion. She had worn a white dress that blended in like water upon her caramel skin, yet I couldn’t recollect how her hair looked like. Nevertheless finally a reward, I chuckled. The open window and the mystery woman.
I started to watch over the window more frequently, many nights I could see her dance across the kitchen. Or so would I assume the dancing shadows upon the curtain. She perhaps lived with her love, I wondered. What sort of person would she be? Clean, yet clumsy. But classy suited her style, that fleeting moment, she was classy. But I wished she was adorably clumsy. I found myself gushing at that thought. She could bake, or she could be an assassin. Yes maybe as an assassin who bakes, and who is adorably clumsy. She took many forms for me every day and each more outrageous than the other. Somedays she had a ringlet like curly hair, sometimes it was wavy, or sometimes straight in myriad different colors.
Days rolled into months, I tried knocking her door, somehow nobody answered. My neighbors haven’t seen her either. Funny I thought. Maybe she is a bartender, with well-kept porch and an unkempt garden. Sunlight kissed the open window many times since then.
I had to leave the town. I hoped I could see her for just once. My taxi had come and I loaded my things. I looked back, at the open window. Yet again empty. When my taxi just started, as the habit, I turned and looked for one last time. I froze.
There she was, her eyes lost in a faraway world, her sadness reeked through her face only for a second thought. Then a peace took over her. Without warning she turned and looked straight into me, locked the eye contact as my car was tearing our gaze. As if she acknowledged and validated what I felt that instant An exceeding sense of loss. An undying urge to dissolve in her embrace, console her and get consoled, a throbbing need to lose myself kissing her, making love to her. That moment, her eyes closed and the windows shut again, but this time the glasses were opaque. I took a deep breath. It was now or never. I stopped the taxi, took the familiar route through the overgrown garden to the beautiful porch. Took a deep breath and chimed the the doorbell.
The doorknob twitched.