I once worked in an office that was separated from the building opposite by a narrow road. All the windows on that side of the building were chest high so you could only look out if you stood up. There was nothing to see really except the second floor of the building opposite. Every morning I would grab my tea and stare out of the window wistfully for no particular reason other than to see the outside world. One morning I saw a woman looking out of the window of the building opposite and realised that she was waving to me. I waved back. The next morning the same thing happened. I realised that I was looking into her bed-sit and I guess she must have thought I had been watching her. I felt embarrassed but also oddly fascinated, like some kind of voyeur, and felt compelled to look out of the window any time I got the chance, even when I should really have been doing my work.

Sometimes she would sit at her dressing table putting on her makeup and then suddenly look up and smile. It was like a game of ‘peek-a-boo’. Sometimes she wasn’t wearing much or anything at all but she didn’t seem to care and waved to me without a hint of embarrassment. Other times she might pass the window and look out to see if I was there and if I was she looked happy. On a couple of occasions I would stay slightly out of sight and watch the expression on her face or just watch her relaxing on a big cushion or doing yoga. Sometimes she would look up as if sensing my presence and flash me a smile before continuing what she was doing. This went on for several weeks and each time I saw her I thought I knew her a little better. (read more @ The First Word Blog)