Everyday I look out the window and I see Heaven.

I know its Heaven because the grass is so green and shiny, and even from the window I can see the little droplets of water running down the green, green blades. There are a lot of clouds, too, and they all look like animals and flowers and they're really fluffy, and I can't decide whether I should rest and take a nap in them or if they're more suited to being spun sugar that will make my fingers sticky but delicious. I lick my lips because I haven't tasted spun sugar in a really long time.

Sometimes I try to open the window so I can smell Heaven, but the wood and glass and other parts are too heavy that I give up after only a few moments. It's always worth it, though, because I can feel the cool air through the glass and the feeling lingers on my hands like a pair of gloves. That feeling is worth it, even if I have to lie down and catch my breath afterwards.

Sometimes I think that Angels have come and that they're going to take me outside so I can smell the grass and breathe Heaven's air. But then I remember that Angels wear a different kind of white that's not scratchy against my skin, and Angels don't smell like rubbing alcohol and Betadine.

I'm usually a little scared after the not-Angels leave, because even though I know they don't mean to they hurt me and I have to hold back tears because big girls don't cry. But when they leave I let myself cry, just a little bit, not because I hurt but because I really thought I was going to get to go to Heaven that time.

I don't know when the world outside the window turned into Heaven, because I used to play outside a lot, and it was just outside then. But at some point when I was looking out the window from my bed I realized that I was looking at Heaven and that everything would be OK if only I could go outside. If I went outside then the air would be Heaven's air and I could breathe it in all on my own.

Sometimes when I feel bad I just press my forehead against the window, and I let Heaven's air rest against my forehead and all the bad things leave while Heaven fills me. But then I'm tired again and I have to lie down, and I can't see Heaven anymore because I'm asleep.

More not-Angels come, and I can only kind of see them because I'm so tired. One of them smiles at me but his hand is cold. They tell me that everything's going to be OK, and I ask them if I can go to Heaven. I hear someone crying and I don't understand.

I just want to go outside.

I try to turn my head, and it's harder than it used to be.

Then I realize that the room is dark, and that at some point while I was asleep, someone had closed the blinds.