Not a pipe. Not the wind. A soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tap against her windowpane. Three knocks, a pause, then two more.
She unlocked the window.
He told her that he lived three floors down. That he had always noticed her light was never on. That tonight, when all the lights died, he thought of her鈥攖he girl in the always-dark room. The Story Of A Lonely Girl In A Dark Room Love