As I rushed to my front door, I realized I only had fifteen minutes left. I quickly made my way to the open window, hoping no one was watching. Relieved that no neighbors seemed to be around, I peeked over the windowsill.
Their living room looked just like everyone else’s. Mike was facing away from me, holding a high-end camera, while Jill, with a slight smile, turned toward him. My attention was caught by a brief movement at the edge of the room. But it was Mike who had captured my full attention. Just as our eyes met, his wife shouted, “Someone’s there!” and my heart skipped a beat. “Someone’s looking inside!”
No, no, no! I thought. This can’t be happening!
With my heart pounding, I rushed back inside and locked the door. What had I been thinking? Why had I looked inside their house? Had I offended them? I braced myself, expecting them to call the police.
The next day, my peace was interrupted by a knock at the door. I looked through the peephole, my stomach dropping. It was Mike. He pulled a picture from an envelope and showed it to me—it was a photo of me. “Care to explain?” he asked, clearly amused.
Embarrassed, I admitted what I had done. To my surprise, Mike smiled and invited me over. He explained that he took daily pictures of Jill because he loved her, a tradition they shared. I found their sweet ritual heartwarming, and from that day on, I never peered out the window again.
