Caroline had been curious about the strange routine that her neighbors, Mike and Jill, carried out every weekday at 4 p.m. for ten years. When she finally made the decision to investigate one day, what she saw through the open window was nothing like what she had anticipated.
A decade. I have been working from home and residing in this residence for that amount of time. My name is Caroline, and I work from home as a web developer.
I can work from anywhere, practically, thanks to my remote job, but I like to stay home in my cozy jammies.
The soothing hum of the refrigerator and the steady tap-tap-tap of my keyboard define my days. My desk faces a huge window that provides an excellent view of the surrounding area.
When I take a break from work, I usually make a cup of coffee and gaze out the window.
During those breaks, I’m delighted by a group of characters who act out their own small dramas, completely unaware of my silent observations.
However, none are more intriguing than Mike and Jill, my next-door neighbors.
At precisely 4 p.m. on weekdays, a silver automobile would pull into their driveway. Mike, a modest, tall man with a bag securely clasped to his chest, would emerge. After entering the house for a brief fifteen minutes, he would swiftly come out, and the car would leave as soon as it came.
Jill would come home with her and close the curtains on the days she had to go to work. They would just draw the drapes closed at the appointed hour on the weekends. 4:00 p.m.
For those fifteen minutes, the attractive Victorian house with its immaculate lawn remained cloaked in mystery.
Their regimen was so exact and constant that I just had to go along with it during the workdays.
Don’t get me wrong; I don’t consider myself to be inquisitive. However, observing this daily pattern for ten years eroded my self-control.
The inexplicable query of “what do they do for those fifteen minutes?” feeds the human mind’s need for explanations. gnawed at my body.
The curiosity bit me so hard one especially dull Wednesday afternoon. The sound of the automobile engine rumbled familiarly as I stooped over my laptop to edit a webpage.
I rose, drawing like a moth to a flame to the window, my chair creaking. I observed Mike and Jill get out of their silver vehicle through the glass.
They kissed each other once and went inside.
I looked at the wall clock right away. It was 4 p.m.
All was typical except for one thing. Just one curtain was left open during the blackout, as opposed to the customary practice of drawing them all.
It called out to me, as if it were an unsaid invitation, to come see what was going on inside their home.
As I hurried to my front door, I realized that I only had fifteen minutes left.
I quickly headed toward the open window as soon as I thought no one was observing me.
When I got there, I took another look around and was relieved that no neighbors were snooping on me.
My common reason begged me to stop at that point, but my years-long curiosity raged louder. I tried to look over the ledge, stretching myself on my tiptoes.
Their living area was same to all others. Mike stood in the middle, holding a professional camera.
His back was to me, but Jill was standing in front of him, a small smile spreading over her lips.
A flicker of activity at the edge of the room caught my attention as I was about to extend myself on my tiptoes for a closer look.
That’s when I noticed Mike was staring right at me, too. His wife said, “Someone’s there!,” as our gazes locked, and I just plummeted. There’s someone looking inside!
No, no, no! I pondered. This is not possible!
I had to hurry back home before either Jill or Mike came outside.
I couldn’t be certain if they had identified me. All I knew was that they had caught a glimpse of my upper face just before I went down.
I hurried to my house and slammed the door behind me before I could even begin to comprehend the circumstances. My heart felt as though it might burst from my chest.
How could I have possibly thought this? I decided to have a peep inside their home, but why? Had I caused them any offense?
At that moment, I was really ashamed, and I had no idea what Jill and Mike were going to do. Would they accuse me of stalking and contact the police? I was frightened.
Upon mentally reliving the event, I became aware that Mike had taken a picture of me. That is correct, really.
At 4 p.m., they knew exactly which neighboring woman was peeping inside their living room.
Allow me to recollect the events. Mike saw me and snapped a picture of me instead of using his fancy camera to take a portrait of Jill.
No one came knocking on my door that day, but the minutes passed, each one seeming to last forever. Is this where the story ends? No.
I was making breakfast the following morning when there was a hesitant knock on my door, breaking the silence. My stomach turned over. I was certain it was either Jill or Mike.
I crept over to the door and glanced through the peephole, breathing heavily. It was Mike.
I urged myself to calm down before I opened the door.
“Hello, Mike! What’s going on?” I smiled at him, acting as though I hadn’t been the one looking inside their home the day before.
Caroline, hello,” he grinned.
He was holding an envelope, and until he slid out a picture, I had no idea what was inside. My picture.
“Want to give me a rundown?,” he inquired, his tone full with laughter.
The picture was more of an inhumane tribute to my awkwardness.
Promotion
It showed me mid-fall, my legs thrashing in the air and a look of sheer dread on my face. It was the most embarrassing thing I had ever done, captured in one picture.
My cheeks burning with shame, all I could manage was a resigned groan. Admitting my nosy ways seemed like the only course of action at that moment.
“Observe,” I started. “For years, I’ve watched you return home every day. I simply couldn’t resist being curious.
“I was curious about the purpose of this fifteen-minute ritual. Nothing more. Please do not misunderstand me.
“A fifteen-minute ritual?” Mike asked, his smile giving way to a small laugh.
“Yeah, I understand. I couldn’t figure it out. Even though he knew I was looking inside his house, why was he so happy?
“Caroline, I understand what you mean,” Mike remarked. I’ll show you something if you come with me. At home, Jill is waiting for you.
“Are you sure I should accompany you?” I enquired.
Caroline, he grinned, “Yes.” “Leave now.”
Before I went outside, I hastily turned off the toaster and got my keys. I entered Mike’s home with his guidance, and I was immediately taken to the center of their quaint residence.
The windows let in sunlight that danced around a collection of family photos and comfortable furniture that bespeaks love and joy.
A soft warmth infused his voice as he took a seat next to Jill on the couch and started telling their story.
He said, “Jill and I have been together since we were 15 years old.” Upon our initial date, I made an absurd commitment. I assured her that no matter what, I would snap her photo in the same stance at the same time every day. It was only a small gesture to let her know how much she meant to me.
He reached for a big leather-bound album on the coffee table as I struggled to take in the touching tale.
He showed me the pictures he had taken by opening the album and turning the pages.
Every photograph, meticulously dated in the corner, bore witness to their everlasting love tale. A few featured a youthful, energetic Jill with infectious smile and dazzling eyes.
Others captured special occasions like marriage, vacations, graduations, and a glowing Jill holding a newborn child.
As time went on, the pictures captured the minute adjustments that happened. A lifetime of joy was etched in the wrinkles surrounding their eyes, and Jill’s smile had a few silver striations that added wisdom to it. But the love that was shining in their eyes never wavered.
“That’s… really really sweet,” I said, astonished by the feelings that suddenly surfaced.
Mike smiled. Is it not the case? So, please, stop looking through windows. He winked. “The next time your curiosity gets the better of you, just knock on the door.” “We could even offer you some cookies as a reward for keeping our secret.”
We had a silent understanding after that day. I never looked out the window again, but I could never shake the memory of their everyday routine. It turned into a touching reminder that sometimes, the most remarkable love tales emerge from the most basic of actions.