My Apartment Window

It was warm inside of my apartment. The scent of a freshly lit cinnamon candle filled all three rooms. I snuggled my feet into the soft insides of my knit slippers as I sat down and warmed up next to the heater. The coldness of the outside air hovered over the window next to my head. I watched as the rain drops raced each other to the bottom of the sill until they combined into one. The sounds of the city streets outweighed the soft music in my home and filled my ears. I could hear the sounds at any time of the night.

The bus stop filled my window. From above, all I could see that night were the tops of bright umbrellas, and hoods on the less expecting. There was never enough room under the roof of the bus stop waiting area. They looked like cattle to me- all smushed together- trying to fit in one spot. I got claustrophobic just watching them all crowded together, so I turned off my music and headed to my bedroom. Beneath my sheets I closed my eyes, remembering when I was a young child and my mother used to tuck me in. I would beg her to fold the sides of the blanket under me and wrap me up like a cocoon. There was something so comforting about feeling hugged all throughout the night. As I recalled this memory, my eyelids became heavier and heavier until I drifted off to sleep.

My dream was different. Halfway through, everything was muted. The people were talking but no sounds came out. Horns were honking, but the startling noises could not be heard. I woke up alarmed. I knocked my glass of water over and it shattered on the floor. It shattered. I heard it shatter. I heard it- but I heard nothing else. I ran over to my window. As I did so, I heard the floors creak. But when I arrived the once filled window, I knew that my dream was not just a fluke. The window was empty. Nobody was at the bus stop. The roads were blocked off. Nothing moved outside except for the trees from the brutal wind. I went to knock on my neighbor's door. No answer. I knocked again and again all down the hall until my knuckles were sore. Nobody was home. I ran back to my window to meet the same empty streets as before. This time there was a figure walking down the street. Nobody followed him. Nothing else remained.

What was going on?