THE WINDOW THAT SAW FRIENDS LEAVE FOR THE CITY
I am just a rectangle of glass, but I hold a thousand goodbyes. They call me a window, a view into the world outside, but I am also a quiet witness to a town slowly emptying. My frame carries the lingering scent of dust and hope, and my glass reflects the diminishing light of a community left behind. I am the window that saw friends depart for the city. I remember my first story. A young man with a backpack slung over his shoulder had a face full of fear and excitement. His mother, pride and sorrow written on her face, hugged him one last time on the pavement below. He looked up at me, gave a silent wave, and then he was gone, a small figure disappearing down the dusty road. My glass captured the last glimpse of his hopeful smile, a ghost in my reflection. The curtains, drawn back by a mother’s hand, stood as a silent witness to a heart left behind. Years passed, and the goodbyes kept coming. A young woman, her face marked with quiet determination, boarded a bus with a ticket in he...
