It was one of those things that he just kept putting off. It was like the washing up in the sink that had been there so long that the fried egg had become part of the plate. The rotting scraps of other food smelt like garbage and had become a haven for midnight raids by the cockroach squad. That window just could not be faced, sometimes while he sat with his heavily adorned pizza on his heavily over adorned stomach in front of the ghostly television, a bell would tinkle in a remote corner of unconsciousness, something about a window. He would head out to the kitchen and peel the fridge door off from the sticky seal and begin reaching for a beer and it would ring again. He would look out through the thin window to a murky darkness outside and forget what it was he had come into the kitchen for anyway. Why should he pay any attention to a small bell in his mind? The dirty pizza dish is added to the growing pile. He could always just buy another plate of course.

After another night of senseless TV he gets up and looks at the world through a smeared window and then recalls what the tinkling bell was about. The window. He could no longer see through it. Perhaps this was a sign that things had got to a certain point where action was needed. So much pollution and grime and soot and dust now clung to his window that the light was just a blur through a see of grayness. He thought of cathedrals and churches with their magnificent stained glass windows pointing like intercontinental ballistic missiles toward heaven in crystal purity and then surveyed his own stained glass window. It set off a series of reflections on his own stained glass life. Was he seeing things correctly? Did changes need to be made? Could he keep on living this way? What would he do to change it anyway. In resignation he clumped down the stairs and pulled another two eggs from the furry cardboard container, found the small frypan in the sink, cleared it of cockroach shit and doused it with olive oil. When he ran his hand over the top and was satisfied with the heat and the crackling oil he tapped the side of one egg and dripped it into the pan with a sizzling welcome of applause from the oil. He repeated the procedure with egg number two before sealing the lot with a lid and beginning to muse on what windows of opportunity the day might bring