[synaptikal.net]

The sharp noise finally broke his focus and brought his attention back to the present. Sam sighed and put the book down into his lap. He’d been a long time reading. He sat propped against the window seat’s side listening now. One leg hung over the side of the seat built into the deep window ledge. Several cushions lent comfort and assurance for resting. His other leg stretched forward almost touching the other side of the window seat. Below his hanging foot, leant against the wall and each other, a line of books stretched out across the floor

Arching forward to unfasten the catch, he firmly pushed open one of the window panes. The breeze tried to swing it hard against the outside wall but Sam was ready. Gripping the catch he steadied the window back and set it on the hook. Drawing in a breath of the cold, bracing air he peered out across the broad sky. Small, evenly spaced cumulus clouds hung above the expansive plain casting dark, mottled shadows across the patchwork landscape of grasses and rocky escarpments below. Sam took in another deep lungful of cold air. The room behind him filling with the fresh air.

There it was again. Sharp, annoying, and piercing.

The high-pitched, clearly metallic squeek was more apparent now with the window propped open. Sighing once more, Sam put the book aside so as not to lose his place, or worse, fall out of the window lost beyond all reach. He pulled himself forward closer to the window’s edge and opened the right side pane, this time pushing against the wind. Forcing himself to peer downward from the wide window to where he saw a rusted metal pulley fixed to the wall some three meters below the ledge. The pulley gave another of the short, sharp reports that had cut through Sam’s enjoyment of the book he’d found in the library yesterday morning.

A washing line had been looped through the wheel of the pulley, and it was tugging at the rusted fixture. Looking forward across the sheer wall, Sam followed the line of colorful sheets, shirts, shorts and socks hanging from the line that flapped in the wind. Further beyond, set into the horse’s flank at the other end of the washing line was a smaller window. Sam wondered now.

He looked away and downward past the washing line, far below the sheer wall of the horse’s side. Far across the end of the wall, Sam’s eyes gazed on the flat grasslands stretched out some thousand meters away. The perspective was disturbing. Were it not for some low hanging clouds between the end of the wall and the ground further beyond then the barely perceptible passage of the landscape sliding by would hardly be noticed. He could imagine the wall, from which his window looked out, stretching all the way down to the land so far below. The horse’s hooves lifting to a gargantuan canter across the lands.

Before risking vertigo Sam looked again back across the horse’s sheer side, along the washing line to the window opposite. It’s shutters and panes were likewise propped open. He saw blue washed walls of a room and, squinting, he could see a painting of two fish on the wall beyond. A shadow moved across the picture.

Unable to whistle, he never had been able to do so since a child, Sam cupped his hands around his mouth. “Heyyy”, he called against the breeze. “Hey across the way”, he hollered once more.

A man stepped into view at the window opposite. It wasn’t so far away for Sam to make out a deceptively young face that hid it’s age well. Tousled, mousy hair had been spiked into lighter tones and earrings hung from his ear. A bright friendly face looked up with a broad grin.

“I’m cooking!” It was a statement of delighted laughter, almost edged with surprise. The stranger waited expectantly for the response.

Sam wasn’t sure what to say. “Yes?”, he offered.

“Hotdog?”

Taken aback Sam blurted, “No”. Unapologetically brusque. The man continued to grin broadly at him.

“Maybe”. He tried again.

The man opposite nodded encouragingly then disappeared back into the room. The sizzle of sausages on a scolding skillet sliced across the divide back to Sam.