"You really shouldn't be here, you know?" He whispers as he moves toward the window
"What difference does that make?" There was nowhere else to be but here. The storm rolls through as it always does, barely louder than a drizzle. Softly in the distance, there is a hint of thunder, but the skies remained the same muted gray. No flash of light, no peek of a cloud, no blur. Only the scattered, slow droplets falling.
The view of the window is always the same, no matter how many days pass. There was once a burgeoning curiosity to look more closely at what lay just below the window. For now, fulfilling that desire was held back. There is nothing to see out there.
He shifts away from the window into the encompassing darkness of the room. It doesn't take many steps to disappear. The dim light only hangs about a foot in front of the window. All else is pitch black. This used to seem unusual, but that is how it always is.
His feet carry no sound, but this didn't matter. There is no reason to call out to what cannot be heard. Echoing outside the glass, the only constant noise kept on its infinite humming. There is no reason to interrupt the noise with words. If he has nothing to say, then nothing will be said. Words are only useful when exchanged between those who can understand them. The rain has no use for human inventions.
Blocking out the light again, he passes through, making his usual aimless paces. The unwanted shadowplay goes on to the point of annoyance, as if he were testing for a response. Such childish actions aren't worthy of giving one. Receiving emptiness as his only reply, his attention returns to the window. He stares down at what lies below the window.
With a whisper, he says, "You really shouldn't be here, you know?"