She looked out over the city, quiet, serene, simple. A certain coldness was in her eyes, one that burned into the soul of all who saw her. No one knew who she was. Though she was always there every Thursday evening. On top of the highest building in the small town… ten stories high.
Several attempts had been made to get her down. By the time people got up there she was gone. She had become as part of the scenery to those living in the small town, but for me, being my first there, she stuck out like a great, serene, angel. To worried with matters of the high above to care for those below. And although her eyes were cold as ice, I could see the sadness in them. Cold, but miserable. No- not miserable. Sorrowful. Yeah.
I lived across the road from the building. Every thursday after school I’d look out of the apartment window to gaze at her and her sad eyes. For some reason, the more I stared at her, the sadder I became. Yet, also, the more I stared at her, the more I loved her.
Yes, I grew to love the sorrowful young girl who stood on the roof on thursdays.
Maybe it was her flowing brown hair, or her simple brown dress, torn at the edges. Perhaps it was how beautiful she was, or how serene.
Or how sorrowful.
I felt so close to her, every time I saw her I felt as if I knew her. But of course I didn’t.
After a while, looking at her made me feel bitter, and sorrowful. My feelings slowly died away.
Now I stand atop the building opposite hers. Every Monday, looking towards the horizon as the sun sets to my back. Silently screaming at the sad, cruelness of the world.
Yes, it might have been the sadness, or the sereneness, but one thing is certain.
My soul has become as sorrowful as her heart.