Jessica then sat at the window starting down the world. She had been sitting there for an hour or two. As to what she was doing there, she was not aware. She had no family to judge her for doing it either, for she had lived a life of loneliness out of personal choice. She thinks that she had a dog at one point. Ah, yes! But it was a cat, and his name was Jacob. He would often visit her by the window, which often was wet from the rain, which refleced her feelings. She wrote from time to time, often about a girl in the meadows with spring dress, but that girl now donned oversized sweaters. She had done what she wanted, yet felt empty. She had done as she planned, yet felt worthless. She didn't know what she would do; possibly go to another window. No, this window is nice, right? For she needed another cup of coffee, which she often over-consumed, preparing for something to hit her. Jessica had waited for a time and time again at that very windowsill, just waiting for the idea to come, the thing that would.