Every morning, the sun spilled gently through the large arched window of a cottage on the hillside, where a girl named Elira sat, wrapped in a soft woolen shawl. Her legs, thin and unmoving since she was little, lay beneath the blanket. The wheels of her chair creaked slightly as she shifted, leaning closer to the windowpane.
Outside, a golden field stretched wide, glowing under the morning sun. Dewdrops clung to the tall grass like diamonds, and in that field, like clockwork, appeared a boy.
He was tall, with wind-tousled hair and a crooked smile, whistling softly as he guided the flock of sheep across the hills. His name was Kael. Elira didn't know him—not truly—but she had watched him every day for nearly two years. He was part of her world, even if he didn't know it. His laughter echoed faintly on the breeze, carried in with the scent of earth and freedom.
Elira imagined running barefoot through those fields, her hair wild like his, the sheep grazing calmly around her. She pictured herself calling out to him, laughing as they chased the clouds together.
But the truth was, she couldn't leave her room. The world existed in soft sounds and distant views—birdsong, sheep's bleats, Kael's soft whistling. It wasn't loneliness exactly… just longing. A longing too gentle to be pain, but too persistent to ignore.
One evening, after a summer storm had washed the hills clean, she noticed something different. Kael wasn't with the sheep. Instead, he stood still, facing her window.
He waved.
Her heart skipped. She blinked, unsure. But he waved again—shy, but certain.
The next day, he came closer. Then closer still. One morning, a note appeared on her windowsill, tucked between the wooden frame and the flower pot.
"I see you watching the hills. Do you want to hear about them from up close?"
Elira pressed the note to her chest. She didn't know how, or when, or even if she could ever walk those fields. But somehow, Kael had already brought the hills to her.
From that day on, he sat under her window after the sheep had wandered off, telling her stories about the world she dreamed of. And though her legs never moved, her world began to grow—because sometimes, it only takes one person to bring the outside in.
And sometimes, just looking is the start of something real.