There was a large window on the top floor of the library. From there, she could see part of the garden and the winding walkway that led away from the main entrance.
She stood there one day, gazing through the glass, watching students pass by with their coffee cups and backpacks slung lazily over one shoulder. Then she saw him.
He was walking in the park below, alone.
Her heart stuttered, her hands went cold. She wanted to stay. She wanted to watch. But panic crept in—what if he looked up? What if he saw her standing there like some wistful statue?
She stepped back from the window.
It wasn't until later she realized: no one could see inside that window from down below. The glare, the angle—it shielded her completely. And still, she had hidden. That's how delicate her feelings were. How powerful her fear of being seen in her longing.