Isn't it interesting: those moments in life -- that consist of only a handful of seconds, half a minute maybe, if you’re lucky -- that give you the opportunity to look in on someone else’s life? You don’t even know these people. Moments ago they were living out one personal crisis or another, and your paths just happen to cross for a second. You find yourself observing, like some omnipotent being, someone else’s life without any actual interaction with them. My mom was driving us home today, when we stopped at a T-intersection. There, right across from us, I could see a girl -- no older than thirteen -- sitting cross-legged on her roof, tense arms wrapped around her legs, with a look of intense concentration on her face. The window of her room was still halfway open. I wondered why she was up there. Was she stuck, or out there by choice, with the ability to go back inside if she wanted to? Was she suicidal, or just looking for some peace and quiet? Was she a danger-junkie, getting her high from knowing how close to falling she was should she lost her balance? Did the numb kiss of the wind on her forehead make her feel calm or afraid? Was she lonely?

Only a fraction of a second later, the front door opened and a short man with tan skin walks out with a ladder -- A contractor? An uncle? Her father? -- followed by a heavy woman with her hands over her mouth. Her hands moved urgently, over her cheekbones, open, away from her body to emphasize some exclamation, and then back to her mouth. Her black hair was twisted hastily back into a hair clip, which, like the rest of her, seemed to sag weakly under the force of gravity. A third man came out after her, but was hidden by her bulk. The latter two tried to communicate with the girl while the first man propped the ladder against the house. The girl didn't speak, or even move except to tilt her chin to glare down at them.

The car began to move, we turned left and went on our way, and on with our lives. Yet, for just a moment, we were the sole observers of a silent film; passerbys looking through a windshield at a family in the midst of the climax of series of events, never to know the beginning, nor the end of the story. And having no right to.