(no subject)

Through the little sunporch balcony off our living room, we can see across the valley and down to a big two-storey house on the other side, with two peaks to its roof. We glimpse a family sometimes, with children, coming and going. Tonight the white-painted house catches light against the dark hillside; all its windows are dark. But above and between the two peaks of its roof there's a window of light. I saw it from the corner of my eye and, because I couldn't make sense of what I saw through the window, went into the sunporch to look. I realised that what I was seeing was dark wooden steps of a staircase against white walls -- and only then did I realise that that rectangle of light wasn't connected to the house below it. I'm sure I see whatever house it's part of every day, but tonight I looked and looked and still couldn't see a trace of anything behind it: only the dimly-lit house with those brightly-lit stairs over its roof, heading upward.