It was a long evening, longer than the usual. It was pouring outside. Sitting on the French window of her apartment, she was waiting for a glimpse of him. He would unfailingly pass through that lane everyday. She would wait every day for that wonderful, beautiful two minutes. She could see him coming from the other end and going down the street. She always tried to capture all she could- his clothes, the colour of his tie, the way he rolled up his sleeves, the partings of his hair, and everything. She could tell you, if you ask, what he wore yesterday, the day before yesterday and the day before that. She loved him so she loved everything about him. Her friends might have called her hopeless lover but she hoped, hoped seeing him everyday, hoped that one day he would look up and notice her. Her Prince Charming would one day climb his way up to the window and come to her rescue, rescue her from an over-possessive, violent and abusive live-in partner.