Voyeur

Looking out of the window, one of my favourite hobbies. That's where real life and moments lie, unadulterated. It's like being in a film crew recording every move, but reflecting on it has its own affliction for me. That's where stories come to me, though. They haven't been coming to me lately. Perhaps, I've come of age, I am certainly older now. I feel shrunken some days, but Thursday afternoon with snow on the ground and chill in the air, it lighted the small candle of warmth inside of me.

It was 14:10 on the clock, me making some pasta in the kitchen (vary of burning my garlic). Looking out the window for people to catch their bus as the cars pass by. I see two kids with their school bag packs on their back, probably six or seven years old, on the opposite end of the roads, one of them drifting away from the bus stop kicking the snow in his path, moving in circles, sliding, chasing the flakes, while on the other side young girl without a care in the world, laying on the ground, swimming in the snow, talking to the snow, rolling in it. Putting me as an adult to shame, who in this beautiful snow is only waiting to warm his food. Soon their buses came, and they went back to their homes in the different corners of the city, leaving me warm inside with igniting the flame, long extinguished.