The watcher in the Mists

Adam stood silently beneath the spreading boughs of the old oak. The earth was moist under his feet and the mist swirled lazily, dripping from the branches above onto his hair and shoulders. He was motionless in the cool damp air, watching intently the lighted window a few yards in front of him. The fog made him invisible, just another shadow blending into the greenery of the garden, able to observe unseen.
The girl sat on a wooden chair, gazing sadly at the mist. Her eyes were dark pools of melancholy, her ebony hair hung straight, past her shoulders like a waterfall of glistening black treacle. She was slender and pale, beautiful and ageless, and Adam ached for her.
He stood and watched her all day, never moving once; observing her every movement, every expression that flitted across her face, until night fell. Then he crept forward, peering through the glass to try and catch a glimpse of her, but the room was pitch black and no moon rose to shed light onto her ivory beauty. As midnight approached Adam left, but the following morning he was back beneath the ancient oak, watching and waiting for an opportunity to speak to the woman.
Days passed. Adam came every day to the garden to watch her. He was captivated by her, by the way she moved, so graceful as she paced back and forth in the tiny room, the way she stared so sadly, yet expectantly through her window at the mist. He watched and yearned to speak to her, but he could not bring himself to approach. The mist was an ever present force, constantly swirling and distorting the garden around him, but one morning as he approached the oak to take up his viewing position the mist cleared for several moments. Adam froze. There she was, staring straight at him, her eyes wide with shock. She pressed her palms against the glass of the window, staring hard at him as though she could not believe he stood there. The mist swirled back and he fled under its cover, mortified that she had discovered him spying on her. Ashamed by his furtive surveillance, he vowed never to return, to leave the woman in the solitude she so obviously craved.