They’d always been. As long as I can remember, at least, and I’m not sure if it was because of me or the girls who lived in this room before.
The pretty, lace curtains might have been there to make up for the fact the windows would never open. Here, girl. Look at the lace and be happy. What is the point of curtains if they can’t billow in the breeze?
The thing about lace, though, is it lets light in. Speckled sunshine rested on the dark, red carpet and, sometimes, if I stood close enough, gave me a spotted glowing feeling on my face. I loved those windows. I hated those windows. They made me feel part of the outside world and were a reminder of everything I could never have.
Here is my attempt at #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent