The person behind the glass

There is a person I know who loves like a room with the curtains drawn. The light is in there. You can see it at the edges. You can feel the warmth if you stand close enough, palm flat against the window, waiting. But the curtains don’t open. Not because the room is empty. Because the person inside is afraid that if they let the light out fully, it will illuminate everything they’ve spent their life keeping in shadow.