Christina Yu: Window
I live in an apartment on the first floor. When passing on the outside, friends like to tap the bedroom window and wave hello to me. While working at my desk by the window, I like to receive calls, and I also like it when my roommates knock on the door—but I dislike seeing a face on the other side of the window. It makes me feel nervous and spied on. To avoid this possibility, I close the blinds. Unfortunately, I still hear tapping every now and then, which I ignore. Later, a few friends ask me why I don’t respond to their tapping. I deny having been there in the first place to hear it. They shake their heads and tell me that I closed the blinds the wrong way: they could see me, though I could not see them. Back in my room, I turn the blinds the other way, though somehow this does not feel right either. When I go back to work, I still hear tapping. So I run out the front door to confront my friends who obviously don’t know when to stop. Outside, I see nothing but a few branches tapping the window in the wind. I can also see clearly through the blinds into my own room. Now I am more angry than ever at my friends, though I don’t know why.