Sylar - Gabriel Gray

I wrinkled my nose as the spray of Windex splattered over the shop’s windows. It was 8:45, and she’d be coming down the street soon. While the cleaner dripped down the etched glass, clinging to the Roman numerals of the clock face, I crumpled up a wad of newspaper to clean.

I washed the windows everyday. Not because they needed it though. I washed them, so I could see Cecily go to work across the street. It was warm already, and she was wearing a sundress, her ponytail brushed her shoulder as she unlocked the door to the used bookshop.