She was alone, that late March afternoon. From her bedroom window, Gratitude could see a dozen people looking at the infinite. Their look was dull and as distant as the horizon. They seemed lost, paralyzed. What were they waiting for? Gratitude wanted to tell them that she was there, in that window, watching over them. She wanted to touch them, but she couldn’t. She was ready, they were not. She realized from their closest and most intimate conversations that they were waiting for something, waiting for something to happen. Expectations were great, highly attractive, and much in demand. They spoke several languages, wore expensive clothes and were powerfully desired by men and women. That afternoon, the inhabitants of that building anxiously waited at the window for them to arrive so as to welcome them. The hours passed, but expectations refused to come to life. Gratitude watched the people , wanting to embrace them, wanting to protect them. She wanted to tell them that the expectations were false, insatiable, haughty and useless. She wanted to tell them that they could let go the illusions created by the mind, this thirst for anxiety and pain. She wanted to tell them that they were rich and that they didn’t know it, she wanted to but she couldn’t. Gratitude was discreet and delicate. She touched the heart after asking permission and did not enter without being invited. Those who knew her could not do without her. She was cheerful and restrained. She spread smiles around her. She lived in the present and had the ability to end the amnesia in which the beings who spent their time at the window lived. Gratitude remained there, silently accompanying the inhabitants of that building, she too, was waiting to be invited to enter.