The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

November 3: The Window

I thought it was just a window. I had driven by it a few times on my way to and from work, but that day, I had to stop.But wait. Let me talk about it, I mean, the part before the time I stopped.You know how it is, right? If you drive on any road for any amount of time, you'll find trash of all sorts. I've heard there is money, jewelry, tires, and even bodies and parts, but tried never to dwell on it when I saw a strangely shaped bag or pile of something on the side.I saw the window for the first time, three days ago. I didn't think much of it. I mean, it was a window, laying on the side of the road. What's to think, it's a frame with some glass on it that should be in a house.The second day, I wondered about the house, like where the rest of it might be.Today was different. As I drove toward it, I started thinking about the people who might live in the house that was missing the window. I stopped and as I got out of my car and walked toward it, the bottom sash went up. I thought it was my imagination, but I saw the fingers, curled around the bottom and pushing. It was just like an ordinary window on the side of an ordinary house, and someone wanted to air out the room.I was afraid but had to know, had to see. I walked toward the window and could smell apple pie.  A curtain fluttered. I heard children, laughing. It brought back memories, reminding me of my childhood.I crept closer and heard a voice: "Children! Pie's done!"It was my mother's voice.I turned, went back to my car, and drove round the window. I won't go that way tomorrow.

I offer these 316 words for today's NanoPoblano post. On one of the roads I travel regularly, there is a window. It is partially on the road and largely off. It is what inspired this tale.

November 4: Cairn Collection

Scribes Cave Picture Prompt: Arrivals