The wind carried the chill of imminent snowfall, and Eliza hugged herself around her middle. She should be getting back, but she couldn’t resist the glow from the window. It was like a beacon, steering her towards a safe harbor, and helpless to resist it, she approached. The snow already on the ground had a top layer of ice crystals, and there was a crackle that followed every cautious step. Underneath that layer, it was soft and wet, sucking at her brown boots. The snow was sure to leak through her shoes and into her socks, find that little tear under the sole and chill her skin, but Eliza felt nothing but the warmth generating from the window.
There was a fire in the fireplace. She could hear it crackling, if only in her head. It would be sweltering hot if you dared to sit right in front of it, but pleasantly warming if you kept your distance. Would they roast marshmallows or chestnuts there as the fire turned to embers? Would the children snuggle up on a sheepskin rug as the room grew cooler?
The tree in the corner of the room stood tall and proud, decked out with perfectly round and glistening red ornaments, sparkling tinsel, twinkling lights and a star on top. Underneath the lowest branches, a multitude of wrapped gifts peeked out. Whose name was on them? Did the children still believe that Santa brought the gifts or had they picked them out themselves in the busy department stores?
A memory blinked past, too flighty to pin down and savor, but Eliza felt the force of it reverberate through her. She should be too young to remember, but who else could have told her? Maybe she’d just imagined it. The perfect family, the perfect holiday season. Perfection was an illusion, after all.
She should be going. Not because her foster mother would worry, but because it wasn’t right, standing outside a stranger’s home, looking through windows. There was no point in wishing for things you couldn’t have, or chasing memories that were just that.
She should go.
Just… one minute more of make-believe, and she could leave and never look back.
Just one minute more.
YOU ARE READING
Looking Through Windows
Short Story'Tis the season to be jolly, or so they say. But for many people, the holiday season is anything but. This is a short story dedicated to all those who may feel less than jolly. Meet five very different women and one man whose lives will be forever c...
