
October of my sophomore year, when the leaves had just begun to fall off the trees, the Quiet Girl moved into the house next door. I remember the day perfectly. I broke my leg the day before and had just begun my two week mandatory bed rest. Her room was situated so that, from my bed, I could see from my window, and into hers.
With nothing else to occupy my time, I learned a lot about my new neighbor. From the books that piled up next to her bedside table, I learned she liked to read. From the notebooks she filled, I learned she liked to write. She had a very nice, top-of-the-line PC, but she never plugged it in. Her room was sparsely decorated, odd for a girl, although at 15, how much did I really know about girls? She spent the majority of her time in her room alone, and no one came to visit. After two weeks of watching my neighbor, I learned very little about her, and what I had learned only made me ask more questions. Read more →