Short Story: The Window

Simone Hall looked at the old photo, it was of a red and blue rose window in a Cathedral in the city of Gijon, on the Atlantic coast of Spain. It was striking, the photo, the colors of the window still shown through the wear and tear of the aged glossy paper. The reds, blues and yellows piercing through time on the paper, still glowing with the proud rays of the sun. The round shape of the window was seemingly soft and feminine, Simone smiled at the divinity in it. It might be because thought of herself as soft and feminine. The window was welcoming, God’s grace was so obvious. The photograph even smelled old to Simone, like stale air and wood, like it had been tucked away in a book for years before being pulled out of its tomb for her benefit.
Now, Simone stood in the light as it fell through the broken stained glass of that very window. She looked up from the photo to the window that was high above her head. She moved forward just a few steps, stepping on the shattered glass that once was art. Simone frowned at the ungodliness of the broken window; how would the long dead architects react to such a scene? Her chest felt heavy with sorrow at  the sound of the cracking glass under her feel. The white sun light shining through where normally a dull red or blue was almost like an intrusion to Simone. It was a contradiction of existence but the god-made light seemed so unholy as it shone through into the cathedral. Even though the sun was shining and it warm, the broken window was enough to set Simone into a mood of gloom and disillusionment. Broken window, broken dreams, broken promises, all it the same. Shattered by the reality of human nature. Philosophers could argue their lives away over such a topic, and they did. Yet, here, Simone what she considered the worst of humanity, the destruction of art, of Holy art, for no purpose.
“Agent Hall, the crime took place in the courtyard. Please follow me,” a young police officer said, his simple statement startled Simone, intruding into her world of disheartened thoughts.
Simone just stared at the man in the blue uniform for a moment before reacting, “Oh,” she looked back down at the picture, “I’ll be right out.”
She didn’t move though, she just looked again at the broken stain glass shards, then up at the window. “Who would do this?” Simone asked, not to anyone in particular. Focusing for a moment on her job, she gazed through the stone church. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the change in the light, from the white light streaming through the tattered window to the dimly illuminated nave. Simone watched the police officers flow in and out of the small framed gate that led to the court, led to the bodies. She knew that she should go out to see what her partner had found.

But she glanced back at the window. It made her want to cry, the destruction of such a beautiful piece of art. How could anyone want to ruin something that so many people gave blood, sweat, and tears for? Simone imagined the countless men that built the stone cathedral, the men that craved the sainted stone personas of those long dead sages. She pressed her painted lips, frustrated boiled within her; she looked at the aged photo of the window in its former glory. She wondered what it would be like to stand beneath the radiate rose as the sunlight beamed through the colored glass.
“Simone, Jesus, come on,” her partner broke through her dreaming, “You’ve been standing here for twenty damn minutes. There is a murder/suicide out in that courtyard,” Agent Jackson said, pointing at the gate. “I don’t know what is wrong with you—”
Simone bite her lip, looking a bit more pale than normal. Jackson stopped, slightly sympathetic, but still too detached to actually care.
“Give me a minute,” Simone said.
“You’ve had your minute. I want to be back in Leon by tonight, lets wrap this up and get out of here.”
Simone couldn’t even make eye contact with her partner, she just mumbled yes and follow him out of the cathedral into the courtyard.
There, two bodies lay covered near a small pond. Again, Simone ignored the urgency of the situation to think for a moment on the uniqueness of this cathedral, not only in having a courtyard but also a pond. Simone wondered if this place, Gijon, had somehow been influenced by English Gothic architecture. She glanced over at the bodies, covered in white sheets. She knew that had not been moved yet, for her sake, and now in this moment, she felt rushed as if to release the bodies from the cloister that had been their deaths.
Simone felt a tug on her arm, she looked and met the eyes of her partner, his clear blue eyes were clouded with impatience and animosity. She was almost scared of him; she clinched her fist trying to gain strength, and in doing so Simone crushed the old photo that had beguiled her into taking this assignment, into coming here.
He pulled her towards the covered corpses, “If you’re going to be upset over anything, make it the two dead people right there, not the damn window.”
Instantly, Simone found herself annoyed with her partner; she forgot for a moment the broken glass and the odd cathedral. She knelt down , uncovering the closest body to her, she saw a young blond woman with a single gun shot wound to her head. Guess she’s the suicide. Simone thought with morbid humour. Under the next sheet, there lay a man, maybe in his 30s, two bullet wounds in his stomach. Simone frowned at the two lifeless forms; she wondered what story had led them to this spot, this death.  She stood up and motioned one of the police officers to remove the bodies.
Walking over to Jackson, Simone felt annoyed that such a simple case had been given to Interpol, “It’s too bad,” She said with a slight smile, “They’re both so attractive.”
Jackson smiled back at her, “Yeah, without the hole in her head, she’d be pretty cute.”
Simone out right laughed, “Ah, well.”
Simone tuned to look at the gate that led to the nave, she felt a shiver of remorse for the broken window and the crushed photo. It was too bad that humans destroyed such beautiful things.