There were ducks outside the window.

She stared at them in fascination, eyes brimmed with child-like wonder that was only present in moments of vulnerability and openness. It was rare- so much so that I had forgotten that she, too, was capable of such a look- to see this expression come across her face, and I would have done anything to keep it there for a little longer.

As the ducks waddled back toward the lake, and as she went back to the stove to finish cooking the measly meal that she would later call 'dinner', I wondered how a pair of ducks could bring out such beauty in her  when I could not.