He watches from the window as she runs across the lawn and into someone else's arms.
He watches from the window as someone else holds her like she is a goddess and he a mere mortal, drinking in her presence.
He watches from the window and imagines what that mortal would look like if the goddess smashed his nose in.
He watches from the window as if that will make up for all the years he spent somewhere else, not watching.
He watches from the window and wills her to look up and see him and also hopes that she doesn't.
He watches from the window and wonders if she knows that she burns with the intensity of every star that once lit up the sky.
He watches from the window and thinks that if she only turned around, she could melt the glass between them with her gaze.
He watches from the window made of glass and flanked by shutters and considers reaching out and slamming those shutters closed—but he cannot bring himself to stop watching.
He watches from the window and knows that not even a pair of shutters could help him anyways, despite his fascination with shutters (a fascination that the girl beyond the window can't seem to understand).
He watches from the window and remembers the time she yelled at him for trying to flush a shutter down the toilet.
He watches from the window and wonders if this thing, this adulthood that he is being sucked into, will always make him feel like he has swallowed several snakes.
He watches from the window and wills himself to stop growing.
He watches from the window and wills her to stop growing so that he too can stop growing.
He watches from the window knowing that she does not consider him when it comes to growing.
He watches from the window until she walks out of view, arm in arm with someone else.
He watches from the window a little longer, until he can't bear the empty expanse of grass outside, and drops the curtain.