Writing On The Window

• Martina Da Ros, Grade 8, Emmanuel College
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

The boy looked out his window into the sea of cars surrounding his. Condensation coated the glass; obscuring his view, merging the stagnant river of cars into a haze of red and orange lights.
He lazily drew his finger through the mist, creating spirals; circles and words. The heat from the car quickly replaced the missing steam.
He wiped away the fog with his hand, creating a temporary window through which he could see the motionless cars around him.
His attention was drawn to the steam shrouded window of the car directly next to his. As he watched, a finger began to trace a word in the mist.
‘Hi’
The young boy blinked and breathed against the glass to expedite the mending of the veil of mist. Using his finger, he wrote back.
‘Hi’
He waited, staring through the transparency of his letters, for a reply. He didn’t have to wait long.
‘What is your name?’
The words were reversed, like looking in a mirror, and grew smaller at the end because the writer had misjudged the size of the window. But the boy could read them, and he replied.
They drew pictures next. Primitive figures that quickly disappeared in the mist. Boats, cars and snails were drawn on the graves of their predecessors.
For a whole hour, they drew and wrote, though to the children it felt like minutes. They could have continued for hours longer if the traffic did not begin to stir.
Like dominos, the lanes of cars turned off their brake lights. Then they began to move.
The boy watched, dismayed, as the car directly next to his window began to advance. The silver drawing of a cat slipped away, revealing the steam shrouded back window of the car that held his friend.
And as he watched, a finger began to trace a word in the mist.
‘Goodbye’.