text: To the untrained eye, the window was as ordinary as windows come. It was a round window, which sat comfortably in its aging frame at the top of its aging wall. It didn’t get to see much of what happened inside the house, but it could see the whole street. In fact, the window was quite proud of the things it could see, for on the rare occasions someone came all the way up into the attic, it got to see both sides of every story. The people on either side could only see what they saw looking out through the window, but the window saw everything. The window saw many different people come and go throughout the years. Each one tried to hide the inside of the house, and made the window wear many things. It had worn curtains, blinds, and duct taped bedsheets. Most recently, it wore a thick coat of black paint, which obscured any view it used to have of the inside of the house. It had nearly despaired of ever seeing the inside again because of that paint, but then it met Samantha. Samantha scraped the paint off the window and polished it until it could see again. The window watched curiously as she cleaned out the junk that had accumulated in the attic room over the years, wondering idly what it would wear this time. It couldn’t help but be surprised when she painted the walls and polished the wooden floor. She fixed everything up... except for the window and its frame. It experienced true confusion when she set a desk in front of the window, sat down with a computer, and stared joyfully out. The confusion only became more potent because of what Samantha saw when she looked out the window. The window saw everything on that street, but it couldn’t see the things it saw reflected in her eyes. In her eyes, it saw castles and spaceships, dragons and warlocks. But when it looked at the street, none of that was there. Children played in the yard. The lampposts blinked on. Cars pulled wearily back home after a long day’s work. There were no dragons. Yet Samantha saw dragons, and she somehow saw them when she looked out the window. It was perplexing. Surely, Samantha was insane. Not only were there no rolling green hills or towering castles now, there never had been any in the first place. The window slowly grew accustomed to Samantha, in spite of her apparent insanity. Every day, close to sunset, she would climb the stairs to the little attic room, sit down at her desk, and gaze through the window upon things that weren’t there. Then she would tap away at her keyboard while the window, curious, tried to see the things she saw. Maybe that dragon she had seen was a cloud or a car moving too fast down the narrow street. Maybe the castle was the old brick house at the end of the block with a round tower on the corner. Try as it might, however, the window just couldn’t see it. The thought occurred to the window that perhaps Samantha was looking at the window, rather than through it. But when it looked closely, it was obvious that wasn’t the case. What could she possibly be seeing on the window that would lead to her fantasy world? The window was old. It had great long scratches and several small cracks. No, Samantha’s eyes saw something besides the window. Something strange and wonderful. The window couldn’t see what she saw, so it began to pretend it could. (Although that’s not something windows generally do.) It would watch the beautiful scenes play out in Samantha’s eyes, then try to play them out itself. Maybe if it tried hard enough, it too would see the things Samantha saw instead of just reflecting them. It became a sort of game for the window. Samantha would see something, and the window would reflect it the best it could. One day it would be a calm day at the beach with mermaids playing in the waves. The next day, it would be an epic duel between two staff-wielding sorcerers. Ever so slowly, the window began to see glimpses of the things Samantha saw. It warmed up to the game, and it even began to predict what would happen next in her story. Of course, the brave knight would defeat the fire-breathing dragon. Of course, the princess would fall for him. Now, the window saw. Now, it understood. Then came the day that the sun rose on the window, and the window didn’t wait for Samantha. It began to look for the things she saw before she ever got there. The window saw Samantha open the door. Of course it did. The window saw everything. It watched as Samantha’s eyes grew wide. It couldn’t fathom why. Samantha had always seen such scenes out the window as the window saw now. Yet Samantha gaped at the window, awestruck. The window didn’t understand, so it just ignored Samantha, happily playing out the scene it imagined on its glass. Fairies, like little multicolored sparks, danced and bobbed in the rolling green hills of a faraway land. A little elf girl and boy ran through the tall grass, trying to catch one. Their mother, tall and beautiful, came out of a hole in the hill to call them home for dinner. There was movement in the little attic room, and the window’s attention was drawn back to Samantha. She sat in her desk chair, her hands up to her mouth. When she pulled them away, she was smiling, even though tears rolled softly down her cheeks. She eased her hands onto the keyboard of her computer, just as she always did. Then she hesitated, her eyes locked on the window. This time, Samantha’s eyes didn’t look through the window. They stared at it. This time, Samantha’s eyes reflected what the window saw, not the other way around. The window played on, happily oblivious as to the reasons for Samantha’s awe. After all, the window was as ordinary as windows come.