Cat and Mouse

            A young, twig of a girl with blond hair and a serene expression was taking a stroll by the wall.  He looked down at her from a second-story window, studying every movement she made.  He watched the way the wind blew her hair, the way her hands rested on her hips, the way her body moved with each step.  My, but she was a pretty girl!  He walked into the next room and continued to watch her out the window.  His breath fogged up the glass.

            He was on her mind, too, though not before her eyes.  But his face was in her head, and his voice, and his expressions.  Her lips moved silently; her eyebrows quivered.

            Suddenly, her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the grass.  He wiped the glass clean and watched her lie there, his forehead wrinkling.