The Girl in the window


A great little piece of Urban life story telling…

I I once worked in an office that was separated from the building opposite by a narrow road.  All the windows on that side of the building were chest high so you could only look out if you stood up.  There was nothing to see really except the second floor of the building opposite.  Every morning I would grab my tea and stare out of the window wistfully for no particular reason other than to see the outside world.  One morning I saw a woman looking out of the window of the building opposite and realised that she was waving to me.  I waved back.  The next morning the same thing happened.  I realised that I was looking into her bed-sit and I guess she must have thought I had been watching her.  I felt embarrassed but also oddly fascinated, like some kind of voyeur, and felt compelled to look out of the window any time I got the chance, even when I should really have been doing my work. 

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