Afletown was busy, as always. The sun was setting on the faraway horizon, and
the city lights twinkled like stars on earth. On the outskirts of town stood a five
floor building due for maintenance. Mould crept up to the top, and the off-white
paint cracked along every edge and window. Dust added uneven shades of off
white and brown, blending the building perfectly into the neighborhood and
reflecting the working-class surroundings.
Almost all the windows in this building were lit. On the fifth floor, the rightmost
window glowed a dull yellow. The apartment belonged to Maria. The baby was
crying in the crib, and the kettle whistled as the water boiled. Maria juggled
between the kitchen and the baby to prepare formula milk. After feeding the baby,
she put her to sleep and returned to her laptop, sighing silently. “No mails,” she
muttered, looking at the screen, dejected. Slowly, she glanced at the sleeping baby
beside her. “I can’t give up!” she whispered to herself, returning to the screen
with renewed energy as she applied for jobs everywhere.
The window next to hers belonged to Gregory. The main door was directly
opposite the window. It slammed open as a tired Gregory walked almost lifelessly
into the room. As the door closed and locked itself with the hydraulic mechanism,
Gregory fell onto the bed and soon drifted into a deep slumber. His ambition to
become an actor demanded every ounce of his energy. Multiple jobs, theatre, and
auditions — 24 hours a day never seemed enough, though his body struggled to
keep up.
Next to Gregory’s window was a bright little room where Mr. and Mrs. Pepps
had made a cosy home for themselves. For years, they had done their best to keep
each day pleasant, brushing aside money worries and other troubles. Mr. Pepps
flipped through TV channels while Mrs. Pepps rocked gently in her chair, knitting
scarves and sweaters with a quiet smile. Their pensions barely covered the bills,
but they didn’t seem to mind. What mattered to them were the small moments
they shared together.
Just below their window was a now-vacant room that had belonged to Cathy. Its
window was closed, and the room lay dark. She was one of those people forced
to fight the world while carrying childhood traumas and a string of bad choices.
Alcohol, drugs, and a shady life pulled her deeper into darkness. Convinced that
no ray of hope would reach her, she chose to end her life. A few days earlier, she
had taken a handful of sleeping pills. The room was now vacant, but the darkness
visible through the window felt eerily loud.
The window next to it was open, and the smell of roses drifted in with the breeze.
Candles flickered, music played softly in the background, and rose petals lay
scattered around — the room was set for a quiet celebration. In one corner, Scott
and Megan sat across a small round table, looking into each other’s eyes and
smiling as if falling in love for the first time all over again. It was their wedding
anniversary, one year since they had promised to choose each other for life. They
had met at work, a spark from the very beginning — love at first sight. To anyone
else, they were easy to miss, but together they were quietly perfect.
The window to Steve’s room was next. The door slammed open, and he kissed a
stranger as they pushed their way inside. She undressed slowly, while Steve did
the same. They carried on on the bed. For Steve, life was meant to be free — no
strings attached, just the fun he desired. Women, alcohol, and a carefree routine
were all he cared about. He gave no thought to the future. Maybe his immaturity
kept him from realizing how closely he was walking on Cathy’s path.
With all the screams and moans from the next window, Tom grew annoyed; he
couldn’t concentrate on his studies at all. Frustrated, he shut his window and
returned to his books, determined to prepare for a brighter future. He had to clear
the University Entrance Exam. His family was poor, and he was determined to
break the chain. Scholarships were his only way forward, and he believed that,
with enough hard work, he could become the kind of genius he needed to be.
After Tom’s window was a number of other windows where different, unrelated
people lived. Some seemed to walk straight into darkness, while others held on
tight to the glimmer of hope they still believed in. Some cherished every moment
they had, while others struggled with every inch to make life better. Different
windows, different people, different stories — only they knew them. Every
window had its own story: some just beginning, others already ended.
The Building
