They stood in the distance, twisted and motionless. They swayed with the gentle breeze that lingered over after the rain. I felt the breeze slap against my face, and out the window I saw them standing. Quiet, three Gulmohur trees, with the little sanguine flowers, that matched the setting sky in the background.
Out the window, my lost eyes fixed themselves into a constant gaze. The sight was breathtaking. Out the window, the world seems to be the delightful crimson all the time.
I was no more sitting by the window gaping at the view outside. I had developed wings, and I was flying like a carefree bird, till my silhouette frayed away into the sinking sun. I had conjured up a new world, where my worries were thrown aside, where everything was beautiful.
Out the window, my thoughts and wishes were no more a figment of my imagination.
I want to give the same flight to my thoughts as the bird does to itself. I want to be that bird all the time. I wish. And staring out of the window makes me feel so.
The bird grew out of sight, and slowly, the crimson turned from a lavender to the twinkling night. And as the stars gleamed, and led the way in the moonless night, I slid away from the window. The bird had flown away, bringing me back, slouching by the window.
