They hated each other. 

Or at least, that is what they told themselves and anyone who would listen. It’s a wonder neither of them had moved, but then living arrangements were so scarce in the city.

They were so stubborn. Both had declared on multiple occasions that they wouldn’t move, that the other would have to be the one to pack up and leave. The neighbors on either side kept their heads down and crept in and out of their houses like skittish children, trying to sneak past their overbearing and tyrannical parents. Anything to remain outside the line of fire. 

I have sat across from them in my own lovely apartment, watching their fights, arguments and otherwise general ruckus from my vantage point across the street. I often laughed, silently snickering behind the curtain as they lambasted each other over random, sundry annoyances. “You left your rubbish bin out and it blew in front of my steps.” “Your music was so loud, I couldn’t hear myself think and my cat cried in protest.“

Mr. Arnott and Miss Carson were unmarried, approaching middle age, and everyone thought they knew the reason for their singleness. Of course it was because they were so incredibly grumpy. “Who would want to marry that?” was whispered behind hands over cold shoulders. 

But while I laughed, I also felt a sadness in my heart. I wondered how long it would take for the two of them to look past their differences and admit that they were ardently in love with each other. 

You might call me a hopeless romantic. And honestly, you wouldn’t be incorrect. As month after month rolls into year after year, I find my hope waning and I pray more fervently that one day, those two will make up with each other. My neighbors have scorned my hope and have told me that they are too far gone to make up. But, redemption is never impossible and no one too far gone for revelation. 

So, I sit here in my window, month after month, year after year, confined to the house, but oh so desperate for my prayers to be answered. I can’t wait for the day that Miss Carson will break down and admit her feelings, or Mr. Arnott will storm across the sidewalk and envelop her in a hug to end all hugs. One day, it will happen. But for now, all I can do is pray that the residents of 370 and 374 will let go of their bitterness and embrace the love of their future. 

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Blessings,