dead eyes

A little girl across the alley, her window across from mine. She stood in the window like a door frame. The window was open, there was no screen, which was normal when i was young. She threw her small spindly child's legs out of the window and plopped down, sitting on the windowsill. Her legs kicked out, her pale night gown tight against her knees, the ruffles playing in the breeze around her ankles. Her feet kicked gently at the building and she threw her head back against the frame and stared up at the stars.

You can't see the stars in the city. Maybe she could. She stared up for a long time, weeks and months in several seconds. When she looked down and broke her commune with the heavens she caught my eye. Her eyes were dead. She stared at me with the eyes of the dead, glassy and unfixed, staring while at the same time looking at nothing. Large circles painted the undersides of her eyes. It mildly disturbed me that something so young could look so empty of life.

Then she looked away, yawning in that way only small children can, a huge open mouth with her head thrown back far. She raised her hand in a small petite princess wave to me. I almost smiled, almost waved back. Her hand went down timidly, she looked away, down, away.

Her head turned sharply then, a response to a sound unheard by me. She was startled, her face flashed panicked but before any reaction could occur on her part she was pulled into the window by unseen hands. The window slammed shut audibly.

I never saw the girl with the dead eyes in that window again. She was gone, her window always empty until i moved out, moved on. I grew up but these moments have stayed with me, always on the edge of my thoughts. I wonder why I didn't smile or wave back. I don't know why, its bothered me like a small itch you just can't seem to reach.

I saw a young woman several years later, I can't remember where now. Her eyes were dead. She looked tired, dark circles painted underneith her dead eyes. She waved to me, a timid princess wave. She had on a pale dress that fell to her ankles, hair ringing her pale thin face. She wasn't looking at me but I knew she was looking at me. A small smile played on her lips, barely there. It was comforting, remenicsent, disturbing. She had no life in her smile. She had nothing in her smile. The smile of a corpse.

I waved back and she disappeared, gone again. I'm sure I'll see her again.

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