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The Girl in The Window

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There she is, the girl in the window. I see her everyday, peering into the Starbucks at 50th and Broadway as I drink my morning coffee. What a beautiful centerpiece to the black umbrellas and yellow taxis that bustle along the busy streets below the dripping grey sky. The showers in April always seem to make the city of love so dull, but everyday she seems to make it so much brighter. Everyday I wonder who she is, why she’s there. What makes her so appealing to the eye? Everyday I want to walk up and take a closer look but always find myself going in the opposite direction. She never seems to make her way off of Broadway. The lights of Times Square always seem to attract people compared to the brown stained brick apartments of 50th street. Including the girl in the window. But today will be different. Today I will approach her. Today I will walk by and stare into those green eyes. I get up out of my usual seat in the corner of the room. I make my way to the blue bin next to the door I usually use. Placing my hand on the door I get second thoughts. Maybe today is not the day. Maybe I’ll go over tomorrow. No. Today is the day. I slowly walk across the room passing, the university students on their MacBooks and Stockbrokers on their Blackberries. I finally made it. There she is, the girl in the window. I look at the 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper with the picture of the mid-twenties female on it. She was so young and beautiful. I read the print below the picture. Missing since September 11th. Loving Daughter and Caring Sister. Any information please call.





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