The window is old as far as I know. As far as I can see, I can't see out of it. Whether it has damage from all the years that I wouldn't know it has been through or if it just has stains from the cold despair that we give off in the winter, I couldn't tell. It's not my window. If it were my window, I would know it front and back.
Get me far away from this window. Those aren't my shards. You'll see. No, I mean you actually will see. The fact that this window will break, shatter, or something. This fogged up window, that isn't fogged up from some kids throwin' up their yogurt because they're freaked out when they hit the fruit at the bottom.
It hates me so bad, it's funny. My point is that, I'm just a little disgusted. It was the first thing I saw this morning. Must mean I don't have a clear outlook on my current situation. If it were my window, I'd be staring out of it before I went to bed. This window, is clearly marked by the fumes of what is honestly death. Sounds a little abrupt and expected but I'd be lying for the sake of entertainment. But hell, it is the notification of the 4th wall telling you that this window was there when they were not there any longer.
Wrong direction, but it ain't my window. Clearly the only way to see it. I don't want to be another one to stain it. That's a disgusting window.