By Carmen Tudor
The last time I saw her she was walking down the low road. I still remember how the hazy pane of window glass tinted everything, made it feel old before it was old at all.
She walked away from where I stood in silence. I thought, how funny that she doesn’t think to take me too. I didn’t know yet.
The seasons changed as I stood there watching. Waiting.
And so I learnt to wait. To watch. When she came years later and tapped on the glass, I opened the door and smiled. “Have you come to be a watcher too?”
I love the ending! It makes the whole scene mysterious