• "Dinner's on the stove! We'll be back in a hour."

    Wincing, but keeping my weary focus on the dented wall before me , I scoffed. What liars. For a fact I knew they wouldn't be back until late into the lonely night. 'Since when have you ever been sincere?' I wanted to scream back at them; wanted to belt out as much air as my 15 year old lungs could release with my tried gusto. But before I had the chance, the bedroom door resonantly slammed behind me. Some parents. Sighing, I turned my head back to look out the green pattern-curtained window, pulling up
    the blinds, and bringing my thoughts of the days less-than-productive events to surface. It was always nice to imagine yourself in a better place, a place far beyond the framed glass of your prison.
    That was when I saw her.
    And once I'd laid eyes on her, I knew that I'd one day come to love her.

    She sat on the park swing, rhythmically pushing herself into the air; higher, then even still. Her bangs blew back, but the rest of it was tied up in a bun on the side of her head. With the intuition I had, I could tell she didn't like her hair down. It was wavy, seemingly untouched and windswept, something I'd rarely seen girls with these days. She seemed uncaring, possibly owing to the fact she wore jeans and a worded tee. Blue and yellow. Bright combination.

    But in the way she looked at the view below her, I could tell the bright colors were only a ruse; her face serious. Pursed lips, eyes almost solemn. By the way she shook her bangs into her face, I knew she wanted to hide herself from the world, or at least part of herself. Yet, as she sat there, swaying back and forth, her swing caught a breeze, and she smiled. It was like a picture out of a movie; terribly surreal.

    At that very second, the only thing I wanted to do was to step out of my doorway, and join her. But the more I ached to, the more I wondered how she would react to me. I'd never had the notion about what someone else had thought of me strike me as important. But suddenly it was.

    I rubbed my eyes, realizing I had been standing there for quite a long time. My nose had been pressed against the windowsill and had fogged the glass. I drew back, ashamed. What was I doing here, practically acting like some pervert and spying on a girl? But I hadn't been truly spying, had I? No, only....pondering.

    At that very moment, she looked toward my direction; very quickly, but noticeably. A glance, and a snap of the head back. I stepped away from my window. Had she seen me? No, she couldn't have. But there was something about her expression that gave me the chills. It was as if she'd known I had been there, watching her the whole time; knew I had been thinking of her. But that was absurd. Unless.....but no. That only happened in stories.

    I had once picked up a book that my sister was reading, and decided to dive into it, just for kicks. It turned out to be a total chick flick, but strikingly interesting. The entire plot was about two teens who had never met, but had dreamed about each other; had known that they were very far away from one another, but were soul mates. They could hear each other's thoughts, could talk with one another. But those were just stories. I laughed at the thought. No one could really know what I was thinking.

    'Oh yes, they could.' replied a voice in my head, mockingly.

    Wonderful. Insanity had finally caught up with me, and now I was imagining the girl talking to me as well. This was a shame. I needed to get out of the house more often.

    'You don't need to imagine for things to be real.'

    Something must have gone seriously off course during my lifetime if I was now pretending that I had a soul mate. I was part of no story. Next thing I know, I'll be walking my way into an asylum.

    I glanced back at the girl on the swing. She had a look on her face as if she knew a secret the world didn't.

    I decided to play along, though if it was with her, or just with my mind, I didn't know. 'Well then' I thought. 'I guess it's just you, me, and the world. We're linked, aren't we?' There was this long pause, as if she was contemplating whether or not she was imagining my conversation with her as well. I saw her shake her head.

    I felt something brush past my consciousness; a wish? Pictures of me sitting at the swing next to her. She blinked, and slowly turned her head back in my direction.

    The window in which she had imagined me standing by, nose to pane, a bewildered look on my face,

    had it's blinds closed.