When Aurelia heaved open the heavy, lace-decorated, black curtains in her room, she expected to see something beautiful outside, like that ancient oak tree from when she was two years old, with its twisted branches that reached to the heavens. Or, maybe she’d see an adorable, fuzzy black-capped chickadee, its starry-night eyes staring back at her, and it’d sing its sweet, short tune. She felt butterflies in her stomach just at the thought. 

     However, all she could see at the moment was dust. She sneezed. 

     It was time to clean these windows, Aurelia decided. Mother would never know. Still, as she walked down the long corridor, she made sure her feet did not make that slapping, pitter-patter sound that was inherent in all six-year-olds. She opened the cleaning supply closet with a key she snuck out of Mother’s room and grabbed a pearly white, new towel. 

     As she scrubbed, she occasionally stopped to look at what had collected on the towel. She scrunched her little button nose. It had been so long since anything had been cleaned in this house. Two years. The ribbon bow holding her hair in place swung in front of her face as she scrubbed. She blew it out of her eyes. 

     The clock chimed three o’clock. Mother.

     She was so close to being done. She just had to finish. Mother would never know. Just the last bit on the top left corner. 

     “Sweetie! I’m home!” Mother closed the door with a precise click. Aurelia thrust the towel under the bed. She straightened her clothes. 

     “What have you been doing all day?” Mother asked.

     “I read books for school tomorrow, Mother.”

     “Good girl.” She patted her daughter’s head. “Just like your father. He always had his nose in a book.” Mother had a faraway look in her eyes, and Aurelia knew what that meant. Mother wasn’t really here with her, not anymore. She hadn’t been for a long while. It was as if, inside, she had died, too. 

     “I’ll make some boeuf bourguignon.” That was Father’s favorite.

_________________

     The next day, when the chauffeur dropped Aurelia off at home from school, she remembered the window. She hadn’t bothered to look outside before, not with Mother around. She decided that it would be a shame not to look, now that she had cleaned the window. She made sure not to let the window squeak as she opened it. Every eighth of an inch more that the glass was unveiled made Aurelia’s little heart flutter with excitement. Her eyes had to adjust to the glow of the beautiful autumn scenery, to the precious golden rays of sunlight she never got to see burst into her lifeless room. Even the dust motes danced, revived from the dead. Aurelia swore for the rest of her life that she would always remember what she found on the other side of the sill.

     Oranges, reds, and yellows. Greens and browns, too. A cacophony for the eyes so warm and stunning that it made Aurelia cry tears of joy - something she hadn’t done since she was a tiny little thing. The wet blobs kept rolling down her cheeks, and she sank to the wooden floor - which creaked with joy in response. The colors reflected off of every surface, from her armoire to her bedding sheets, to her little stuffed teddy bear. Oh, how Teddy had not been outside for years. Aurelia felt so guilty for not taking him out for a walk. They used to have tea outside with all the other stuffed animals, and even Mother would join at times. But Mother decided it was inappropriate to have tea or take walks outside, not when Father was so lonely when he was ill. He never recovered.

     Aurelia peeked out the window again, wincing a bit on contact with the bright sunlight, a bit afraid that she would cry at the wondrous sight of the world outside, and then Mother would hear and come. When she looked beyond the majestic oak tree spiraling up and up right outside her window, its branches waving hello in the wind, she saw a little house. It was so small compared to hers that she wondered if dolls lived there. She knew that was silly, though, because dolls wouldn’t reveal that they truly are alive by living right next to humans. She also knew this because there was another small human about her size, just with shorter black hair, pacing back and forth through one of the windows. He turned to look out the window. 

     They locked eyes. Aurelia covered her mouth and gasped. She jumped down to the floor, taken aback. She checked again to see if he left. He was still there. To her surprise, he waved. She gave him a timid smile and waved back. He ran to some closet behind him, then sat down by the window, looking at an object he was holding, like he was writing something down. She thought he had already gotten bored and decided to do his homework. 

     After a few minutes, he lifted the object: a tablet. In neon letters, it read: “Hello! I’m Aspen. What’s your name?” Aurelia scrambled to get something - anything - to write on. She didn’t have a tablet (Mother didn’t believe in buying any “unnecessary technological devices” as they were “a mere distraction from that which was important in life”). However, she did have lots of paper and crayola markers. She chose her favorite one: soft pink. Then, she realized, he might not be able to read it. So she chose the red one, the color of the leaves swaying to the ground before her.

     “My name is Aurelia. Did you just move here?” she wrote.

     “That’s a pritty name,” he misspelled. Aurelia supposed his mother didn’t worry as much about spelling and grammar as her mother did. “I moved here two years ago,” he continued.

     Two years ago? That’s why she hadn’t seen him before. He came when they first began to draw all the curtains closed, when they first replaced the airy, white blinds with weighted, parka-like ones. The type that block out wind, sound, and sunlight. 

     “Do you like reading books?” she asked.

     “I do. Which ones do you like?”

     “ 'Moby Dick,' 'Huckleberry Finn,' and 'Pride and Prejudice.' What about you?”

     “I like 'Dog Man' and 'Don’t Let the Pigeon Ride the Bus.' ”

     Aurelia had never heard of those. They sounded quite riveting. Perhaps 'Dog Man' discusses the fine line between civilization and humans’ animalistic tendencies, like in Jekyll and Hyde? 

     Aspen held up a new sign. “Do you have a phone number or an email?” 

     “No.” Mother most definitely did not allow her to use the computer – or the home phone, even. 

     “Do you want to play outside?”

     “I would love to, but I can’t. Mother says Father would be sad if I left him here.”

     “Can you bring him with you?”

     Aurelia had never thought of that. Then, again, she knew she couldn’t.

     “I cannot.”

     Aspen seemed to pause for a minute. Aurelia hoped he was not upset with her. She quite enjoyed their correspondence.

     “That’s ok. How about, every night after school, we go to our windows and write about our day to each other?”

     “That would be lovely,” she responded, excited. The two said their goodbyes.

     Now, she would just have to figure out where to throw out the paper. She could hear Mother coming down the hall. She threw the paper under the bed, along with that towel she used yesterday to clean the window. Mother laid a weary knock, one, two. “Aurelia, are you ready for dinner? I made your favorite dish: beef bourguignon.”

     Aurelia never liked nor despised that meal. A year or so ago, Mother had begun to make it, day after day. Aurelia would come to loathe it.

_______________

     “Aury! Can you please take care of the host stand?”

     Aurelia was currently sorting the teas in the back. If she left it, Ms. Wong was certain to let the whole shelf run wild, with the oolong open right next to the chai left slightly ajar, or another similar horror waiting to happen. Yet, she knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it if she didn’t listen. And she needed this job. “Of course, Ms. Wong.”

     Aurelia rushed to the front, put on her bright maitre’d smile, and ushered in the new guests. “Welcome to Wong’s Café! How many seats would you like?” Not a single one of the teenage girls looked up from their phones, except for the one in front who, Aurelia assumed, was their leader. And she looked so shocked, her eyeballs seemed to bulge out of their heads.

     “Ohmigosh, you guys, look who it is! Sweet little Aria. So the rumor is true - I just couldn’t actually believe it when I heard you worked here! Guess we’ll make sure to give a good tip, in that case.” The group giggled in response, as if on cue.

     Aurelia was so shocked she didn’t even notice the condescension in Sarah’s tone, or the fact Sarah got her name wrong. Why were the girls from Aurelia’s high school here? She led them to a table and gave them the menu. “Um, thank you. Since it’s your first time here, perhaps I shall give you some recommendations?”

     “Nah, that’s okay. Hmm…Do you guys have an iced matcha green tea latte?” Sarah didn’t bother looking at the menu.

     “Unfortunately, we do not. We do have black sesame seed- or banana-infused matcha green tea.” The questions went on and on for what seemed to be three hours before they finally picked the most basic items off the menu, took two sips of their drinks, paid their tab, and left. When Aurelia went to clean up the table, they had left a large, 100-dollar bill and a note. “Our tip for such fantastic service! Maybe you can use it to dust off that rusty old mansion of yours?” 

     The other shoe dropped.

     After they closed, Aurelia ate the dim sum Ms. Wong always saved for her so she wouldn’t have to eat at home and counted the cash in the cash register. She slipped the 100-dollar bill in with the rest of the money they made that day. She didn’t need people’s pity, and she certainly wasn’t a mockery.

     Later that night, she told Aspen about the girls from school.

     “That’s mad crazy, bro. I wish I could've been there to tell them off.”

     Aurelia had to stop writing to laugh. Only Aspen could call her ‘bro’ and get away with it. They were 17 now. They may have grown up, but some things didn’t change, like the types of things they were interested in, or the language they used. Sometimes, she joked that he still couldn’t spell correctly. 

     “I don’t mean to offend you, but I don’t think you would’ve scared them. They’re only scared of chipping their nails.”

     “Hey, I can be pretty scary.” He flexed his muscles to demonstrate, waggling his eyebrows like a cartoon villain.

     “Maybe if you read Stephen King, then you’d really know what scary is.”

     “Well anyway…I was wondering: I know your mom’s harsh, but you know that she’d probably understand that you’re working, right?”

     “She wouldn’t understand.”

     “Right. Well, maybe, if we meet up, you won’t need to save for a phone anymore. Where’s your work?”

     Aurelia was about to answer when she heard a floorboard creak outside her door. She paused, put down her marker. The hairs on her neck stood up and her spine tingled. And it wasn’t just the autumn wind picking up, making an eerie swooshing sound through the street, that set her on edge. She closed the curtain so quickly that it made a huge scratching sound against the metal curtain rod. She began to stuff the papers frantically under the bed when Mother burst through the door.

     “Guess who I just got a call from? Sarah.” Mother was testing Aurelia. She had to be careful.

     “She said you were supposed to work on a school project together, but she found out you were working. So I called Jeremy, your father’s old coworker. When I asked him how your internship was going, he said, ‘An internship? Your daughter?’”

     “He sounded very oblivious to the fact that my own daughter was organizing financial projections right next to him in his office!” 

     “Mother, calm down, what are you talking about?” Aurelia was so nervous she almost slipped on the markers strewn all over the floor like a unicorn had vomited.

     The dark rings under Mother’s eyes looked like black pools that Aurelia could drown in if she didn’t escape now. Mother’s hollow cheekbones were emphasized by her pale, translucent skin, credit to her lack of sunlight exposure. Mother just got paler when she was angry. Even her biological makeup conceded that there would be no color in this house or on its inhabitants. This is why Aurelia refused to read Dracula.

     “Then, to my utter embarrassment, he said: ‘I apologize. I’m very disorganized, but I remember. Her name is Rachel, right? That girl’s a wonder with spreadsheets.’”

     Aurelia couldn’t breathe. Time slowed down, and there was a ringing in her ears. “I j-just wanted t-to save up…for a p-present for your b-b-birthday…b-but I didn’t want you to know…” She managed to stutter.

     “So my own daughter, from the most respectable family in town, decided to work at a CAFÉ!? I had to find out through that girl, Sarah, your classmate. Classmate!” Mother looked like she was about to faint.

     “Mother, please —”

     “And what is this?” Mother pointed to the markers and papers strewn all over. Aurelia had hidden the most sensitive ones, but it wouldn’t be pleasant for Mother to see any of them at all. They were Aurelia’s one private possession, something all to herself. She couldn’t let Mother have it.

     “I was working on flashcards for the debate team tournament coming up. I thought signs would be best and —”

     Mother glided across the room like a ghost, read ‘I wish we could meet, too’ from one of the papers, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. Then, she saw it. The little sliver of light peeking through the curtain. She thrust the heavy material open, looking for any incriminating sign. Luckily, Aspen knew Aurelia well, and was hiding, away from the window. But he didn’t hide well enough. To someone who wasn’t paying attention, the only incriminating thing was the sun and sight of sparrows playing in the puddles of mud and dead leaves. But Mother was as sharp as a knife. She grabbed her daughter’s shoulders in a rage, bony hands squeezing the young girl’s soft flesh. It felt like Mother had teared Aurelia open. 

     “So, you’ve been enjoying the crisp fall weather with that boy across the way, I see. Your Father would be so ashamed. What am I to do with such a–”

     “A selfish daughter? A brat? An ingrate? What is it exactly, Mother, that you’d like to call me? What is it you’d like to scold me for, for doing something so unthoughtful as to open a curtain to see the light of day? I haven’t been able to go outside unless it was for school since I was four years old!” 

     Mother and daughter were both panting, livid.

     “How dare you disrespect this family and disrespect your father’s memory.” Mother’s pitch changed to a dark, deep one. Aurelia didn’t care anymore.

     “All you’ve thought of for the past twelve years is what Father would want. Face it, Mother. He’s gone. You say his soul is still with us. But he’s not really here. He only haunts you in your imagination. I barely knew him.” She paused to catch her breath. “It’s time to move on, Mother. I’m sick of this, sick of it all.”

     At first, it looked like Mother was going to explode, the rare sight of color painting her cheeks crimson. But she let go of Aurelia, sighed, and walked out. Before crossing the threshold, she clasped her hands behind her back. “From now on, my dear, you will be homeschooled. I’ll see to it that you do not waste a single second on anything worthless, and that you make it to Beckham University, just like your father did. Wait in your room while I make your favorite beef bourguignon. Perhaps it shall calm you a bit…” She paused, turning back around with a sly smile on her face. “Oh, and, I’ll have the repairman come and lock the windows and put permanent curtains. We mustn’t overwhelm your father’s spirit.”

     Aurelia would never see the colors of autumn, or any light, again.

_____________

     “Mr. Hollis, you have a letter from management.”

     He sighed. He had only been here for three weeks and, already, the boss was nitpicking his work. It wasn’t that hard to research data on companies to invest in. He compared his reports with those of his coworkers, and his was actually more detailed than the others. He opened the letter.

     “Dear Mr. Hollis,” it read. “Please find the format for company reports, which we provided at training, for review. We highly encourage all employees to follow the format, which makes the flow of communication seamless and quickens the company selection process.” The rest had a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, high society words mixed in. He never met his boss, Ms. Alderwood, but from her stiff headshot on the company website he examined before his interview, she was surely a stick in the mud.

     That night, as he stepped into his new apartment, he felt water drip over his head. Then, all of a sudden, that drop turned into a light stream of water as a medium-sized chunk of the ceiling fell on him. What a great end to the day. 

     “Oh my!” The unexpectedly smooth, light voice gasped. He was expecting a middle-ager with hairy armpits and anger issues. Instead, a woman his age peered through the small hole in the ceiling. She looked extremely familiar.

     “Ms. Alderwood?” What a surprise. She was different in person. She looked more relaxed. Her hair was chestnut brown, and she had the most beautiful, intense blue eyes.

     “Um, yes, that’s me.”

     “I’m Mr. Hollis, your new employee.” Why did he say that? Seeing she hated him at work, that might’ve just cost him their potentially friendly relationship. Not to mention, he was fully covered in ceiling muck and paint chips.

     “Oh.” It didn’t seem like she recognized him.

     “I’m that one you keep sending letters to. You know, about the company report format?” He couldn’t stop babbling.

     “Oh! Oh my, I’m so sorry about that. You see, my assistant handles all of that. Sometimes, she can be quite blunt, but that’s because she has quite a lot on her plate.”

     “I understand.” He shuffled his feet. They stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like hours.

     “I’m also very sorry about…the ceiling.” She cleared her throat. “The superintendent is too lazy to fix anything. Now he’ll have to. We can…go complain to him now.”

     He agreed and, after washing up, they met downstairs. She shook his hand.

     “I feel terrible about the trouble you’ve gone through at work. I was hoping to fix the new employee transition process this year…Here, I made you coffee. I hope it makes up for some of the inconvenience.” She was definitely much, much nicer in person. And her smile was so bright and warm. 

     “He lives around the back. He’s such a brute.” He didn’t realize they would be walking in the chilly fall weather to get to the superintendent’s apartment. They were silent for an uncomfortably long time. “Autumn is always my favorite season. Once I’m outside, I can’t stop walking. I mean, isn’t it amazing what nature holds? Just look at these leaves, each one is different,” she picked one up. “There are so many beautiful birds that come here, in blues and reds and browns and all the colors of the world, just to sing right by our windows. Isn’t that amazing?”

     He stopped, a bit stunned. Was this really the same boss he knew from work?

     “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I must sound quite strange. I’ll just…stop talking now.”

     She apologized too much. “No, that’s…what you said was amazing. It was, like, impromptu poetry. Have you ever thought of being a writer?” He asked.

     Ms. Alderwood paused, her fine features illuminated by the tall lamplight to the left. “Yes, I have,” she sighed. She seemed to be in another world. She smiled like she was remembering something. “Fall brought me the friend I cherished most when I was a child. I wasn’t allowed to do much but read. Luckily, I enjoyed it. And I wrote about all my favorite books to him. When we grew older, he told me I should become a novelist.” She stopped walking.

     They both stood, seeming to stare into the distance and grasp on some mutual, abstract thought that didn’t exist. They were enveloped in this bubble of peace and solace in the chilly autumn night.

     Aspen was confused by something she had said. He turned to look at her. “Why did you write to him? Did he move far away?”

     “He did, eventually. But I only ever wrote to him while we knew each other. It stopped after…Well, by the time I could contact him again, he had moved. I never saw or heard from him again.”

     Mr. Hollis only noticed now that she was still wearing her suit. To anyone looking from afar, she looked important and dazzling. Somehow, still, it looked like a straightjacket to him. She looked stuck in it. “Well…If you don’t mind me asking, why couldn’t you talk to him?”

     “It sounds silly, but we communicated through our windows by writing to each other on signs. We were neighbors for years. I never heard his voice, but we knew each other so well.” Mr. Hollis froze. Ms. Alderwood felt strange sharing this, but it all seemed to slip out so easily. “I miss him very much. I don’t know how I’d have lived without him.”

     Could it be? 

     “Ms. Alderwood, what was the boy’s name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

     She was surprised he was so interested. “You seem very captivated, more so than any other person I’ve told this story before.”

     He had to know. “What if I told you that you could meet him again?”

     She laughed profusely at that, as if it were the silliest joke ever told. Finally, she gave in and told him the boy’s name. “His name was Aspen. But I don’t think you could find him on the internet; believe me, I’ve tried,” she joked.

     “You don’t need to find him online.” He looked her straight in the eye.

     Aurelia’s breath caught in her throat. He had such an intense gaze full of life. She could see his love and passion and joy and happiness, the eyes of someone who refused to see sadness. Something she’d never seen except once before. She tried to decipher his meaning. It wasn’t possible. Aspen had come and gone with autumn, had been swept away as gracefully as the red-and-orange leaves in the whispering wind she dreamt of at night. She turned away to prevent her tears from falling at the memory, the haunting that kept her up at night and made her spend hours the next morning in the bathroom covering the dark circles under her eyes.

     Aspen wasn’t sure if this was a mistake or if this was proper at all. But he had to take the chance, or he’d never know. The fall wind picked up, making the fallen leaves swirl in a kaleidoscope of colors, bringing with it a cool sense of boldness, a sense of return. He laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping she’d turn around. “Your first name. You’re…Aurelia, right?”

     “Y-yes.” She blinked her long lashes.

     He took out an old, yellowing paper from his pocket and put it in her hand. He grinned like a kid as she read it. “That’s the prittiest name I’ve ever heard.”