She stood by the window gazing out. Longing to feel the freedom of the outside world. Her face lightly pressed against the window pane, wondering what was stopping her. Physically she could open the door and walk out of a room, but emotionally she was trapped.
She was a pretty soul. Dark, long hair that nearly met her waist. It possessed a natural wave that many would yearn for. Mysterious eyes that could spellbound the observer. And yet she was unaware of their transfixing beauty. Pale, unblemished skin that only now was beginning to show the signs of light ageing.
She undoubtably was pretty. Not stunning, not sexy, just a simple natural attractiveness. She lacked height and was slightly overweight, yet it did not affect the natural beauty that she presented.
Daily, like a ritual, she would look out windows, wondering how others lived their lives. Wondering if they endured the emotional hardship she pain-stakingly went through each day. Did they live with loneliness? Did they live with the burden of raising a child with special needs? Did they ever stop to think about their lifestyles? Were they happy?
Often she would gaze in mirrors and wonder who it was looking back at her. She seems only to remember the face of her youth. The vibrant years of her teens. The person that reflected back was older, and seemed so battered and bruised. She could only recognise the eyes. They told so many stories. So many emotions talking back at her, just through a silent gaze.
Will she ever find what she needs? Does she even know what that is? Maybe...., then again... ,maybe not. Until then, she will go on day after day, seeking refuge by looking out windows.