A window open to the rain

Heavy rain and quite cold this morning. Drawing back curtains I noticed in the house that backs on, a ground floor window wide open and unfixed. I peered for signs of life, there were none.

On Sunday I'd seen someone in the garden, but they have family and might have gone away on holiday at this time of year. It would be easy to get down the alley and over the fence, so of course I assumed a break-in.

For a moment I sat and examined my motivations. If my fears were confirmed, speed was not necessarily of the essence - it was broad daylight by now. If I took action, was it because I was bothered about crime in the neighbourhood that might reach me? Would I feel guilty if I had done nothing? Would it make a difference to the householder or to the police? Ah, I see how easy it is to do nothing.

I plodded out there in the wet, went round the front and rang the bell. A small window was open above, but no response. I rang again and waited. I drew away in the silence, walked along the street looking for signs of life, then looked back and saw the door just closing. Scurried back, explained, expressed relief, apologised. It was just his son being a little unreliable, after all, and that's a relief. That'll be the lad who managed to sneak his way into my garden and stick his bubblegum on the window the other day, presumably as a dare - I admired his sense of adventure. Said nothing about it.

Returning, I started to wonder if he now thinks I'm nosy for having seen that his window was open. Oh well.