r e m e m b e r i n g;; ;;f o r g e t t i n g

w i n d o w s i l l

the rain stopped and she wondered what else did too. perhaps someone's troubles, perhaps
someone, or perhaps nothing at all.
she felt selfish asking the rain to stay. maybe the rain did not want to stay.
she put the covers over her feet in what she told herself was the fear of the unknown. although she wouldn't admit it, it wasn't fear. it was more of a weariness.
the window sill that had been there before her laid alone. she wondered if the window sill had watched all this time. watching. she discussed with herself how she would feel just watching. but then she stopped, because no matter how much she would have preferred it, she was not a window sill.
she liked watching. watching when no one thinks she's watching. watching when she isn't supposed to watch. but then she stopped thinking about that too- because she found that when you say a word too many times it looses its purpose. words were her purpose, so what would happen to her if her purpose looses purpose? she liked words. she watched words. she watched words more than she watched people. but not as much as a window sill watches.

justwatchjustwatchjustwatchdontwatchdontwatchdontwatch

and it was amidst all this watching and window sill that she almost forgot the absence of the rain.
well, she didn't so much forget. she just didn't remember.