How does this sound?

On dark Melborough Lane in the middle of a night lay a house just like all the others. Its white picket fence reflected the shadows cast by the street lights. The professionally cut gr was lush and emerald green, the preferred color of summer, and the windows were adorned with Venetian blinds and decorative curtains. All except one of these windows had blinds shut and curtains drawn, and in that window, a girl sat. Her thick brown hair shrouded her face as she peered over the book sitting in front of her. Every so often, she would wave her index finger, and the page would turn by itself. As she read the last few pages of the book, she waved her hand, and the book shut itself and flew back to the shelf with a loud thud. The girl swore to herself, hoping that her mother had not heard the sound.