WINDOWS

Avis Blue
WINDOWS
If I open this window facing the outside world, where will it lead me? To my death? Will I fall along with the rain drops that snake down the glass? I push open the double-door window and sit on the window seat. The droplets of rain take advantage of the open window and scatter themselves over the sill, darkening the chipping paint and moistening my open palm. I rest my head on the window sill, folding my arms underneath my neck.
The sun is bright despite the fog blanketing the gray sky. It is beautiful though and I wouldn't ask for anything more. It is simple and easy and what perfection should look like. Simplicity is the only way magnificence can be perfected because with simplicity there is no trying. There is no effort.
By now my arms, my hair, my face... I'm soaked in water. It is cold but I do not shiver. Doing so would be like disrespecting the rain's company and I could never do such a thing. I welcome it as it accumulates, forming a puddle around me, spilling down the wall and wetting my knees.
There's a soft knock on my bedroom door, and by the lack of sound I can tell that it is my mother. She is light on her feet, graceful as a ballerina.
"Avis, close the window," she says softly. "You're going to get sick."
I don't look at her. I allow the rain drops to continue to use me as their landing strip.
"I am sick."