There was a woman in the little sitting room, standing against the window, with her back to him.

He leaned his back against the window and looked at me.

I sat in the back with my head pressed against the window.

I pressed my face against the window and looked up for a second or two.

He could hear a light tapping against the small window of the side door.

Right up against the window, between two tables, he stood.

Outside, the rain beat against the window although it was still the middle of the night.

She turned her head away, and, standing up, leaned against the window.

She sat down in her chair and leaned against the window, looking out.

Something about the way her arm was resting against the window.