The view from the window

As the light poked through the curtains that morning there was an insatiable urge to open and look out. The air in the bedroom felt heavier than usual, the duvet was wrapped around my body, leaving me in a cocooned like state, but still there was something drawing me to look outside. A heavy sigh was drawn as the early morning slumber shaken off, but no butterfly emerged, just a tired and confused body.

The view was unexpected.

No, not the physical environment, that was the standard housing estate view, dark red roof tiles, white PVC windows and guttering. Tightly packed houses, cars sharing the pathway with the early morning dog walkers. That aspect of the view never changed, day after day, always the same.

My eyes were instantly drawn upwards, as they did my mouth opened slightly and the moisture instantly disappeared and my heart rate increased.

It was the light creeping through the curtains that had woken me, assuming it was morning and it was the sunlight, sometimes my assumptions are not always right, that day was a prime example.

The sky was covered, there was no sky to be seen. At first there were no words to describe what I could see, and it wasn’t until days later that I could start to put the right words together. 

As far as my eyes could see there was a large metal object sitting overhead, several bright yellow lights were beaming down, my addled brain slowly working out that that was what had mimicked the sun and woken me from my slumber. I had no concept of time, and at that moment that seemed completely irrelevant. My eyes blinked several times but words still failed to appear, the enormity of it all was difficult to comprehend, I couldn’t see any sky, the object had hidden it all from view. 

I sat back down on the bed, leaving the curtains open meant that there was still no hiding it. This was no ordinary view from the window and as I saw the flicker of the neighbours curtains, I knew that this was going to be a day like no other.