Window Pain: a story in 60 seconds

“Better keep yourself clean and bright; you are the window through which you must see the world.” – George Bernard Shaw

“Aren’t they fabulous?” Genevieve asked her lunch guests. “It took me two months to find the right style, but I’m beyond thrilled with the size and aesthetic. The light just pours in, don’t you think?”

The ladies all smiled politely.

“Yes, dear,” one added. “They are absolutely wonderful. I’m so happy you went ahead with the picture windows. Such a clean look.”

“Yes,” another of the guests agreed. “So chic and unassuming. I simply can’t stop staring. How tall are they?”

“Seven feet,” Genevieve answered nonchalantly. “I wanted to go floor to ceiling, but Kip said leaving a little wall would accentuate the casement.”

The ladies continued staring at the three colossal windows. The afternoon sunshine flowed into the living room, setting the blonde wood and crisp white furniture aglow.

“You’re so lucky to have a husband like Kip,” a guest added. “It’s rare for a man to have such a discerning eye for design. The renovations must have required such vision.”

Genevieve lapped up the compliment and offered a demure smirk in return. “Yes, Kip is full of surprises. However, I can’t give him all the credit. I’m the one who ultimately pulled the trigger. For such a competent financier, poor Kip has trouble making decisions regarding the home.”

“It sounds like he’s the lucky one,” another lady piped up.

Genevieve tipped her head back and laughed loudly. “Now, isn’t that the understatement of the century…Well, enough chat; I’m sure you ladies are ready for a little bite.”

The women nodded in unison.

With a small gesture, Genevieve directed the women to a small seating area. They all piled onto the couches and the ones who couldn’t fit sat on a few chairs that were brought in for the occasion. Genevieve strode into the kitchen and emerged again a minute later, trailed by a young woman carrying a platter of finger sandwiches and smoked salmon.

One of the guests clapped her hands together. “Ooo, this all looks scrumptious!”

“Oh!” Genevieve exclaimed. “I almost forgot the Champagne! Wouldn’t be much a brunch without the bubbly.”

The women chuckled obediently.

Genevieve once again ran into the kitchen and came back out, holding the bottle. “Now,” she said, untwisting the cork’s wire cage, “it’s time to get this party started!”

All of a sudden, there was a loud thud.

Then another.

A woman shrieked. A second began to whimper.

“What the HELL was that?” Genevieve howled, twisting her head around.

Two crimson streaks slid slowly down the glass. Genevieve walked over and peered outside. A pair of birds lay on the ground beneath the windows, twitching helplessly.

Genevieve hastily shut the curtains. “So…who wants Champagne?”

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