catherine was a curious child, and lived in an apartment on the third floor of a building in a large city. the third floor was the perfect height for a person, who, like catherine, enjoyed watching people pass by on the street below, as it was low enough to get a good look, but high enough that the people being watched rarely looked up and saw that they were being watched.
catherine enjoyed watching the persons passing below more than she enjoyed television, or scrolling through a computer or tablet or cell phone. she did not at all like reading or doing homework, and nothing could persuade her to take up piano, violin, dance, or any other such nonsense.
“if you do not mind my asking,” her mother said to her one day, “what do you find so interesting about the people in the street?”
“i think it interesting,” catherine replied, “that they are all so much alike. you would think that there would be more variety, but they are pretty much all the same. i wonder, if perhaps, inside they are all different.”
“and that is what interests you? i would think it would be just the opposite, that they would start to bore you.”
“no. i find it a source of infinite fascination. and i also wonder, where are they all going? and looking so serious, most of them.”
“they are all going different places,” catherine’s mother said.
“no!” grandpa, usually so quiet, spoke up from his chair in the corner. “they are all going to the same place.”
catherine’s mother rolled her eyes. “and where might that be, dad?”
“to the grave! they are all headed to the grave!”
“oh, for heaven’s sake, dad, the child is morbid enough, without listening to stuff like that!”
“no,” catherine replied thoughtfully, “i think grandpa had a point. a very good point.”
and she turned back to the window, and continued to watch from it, day after day, until she was finally sent away to school.
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