Across the room I find her sitting there, pretending to read a book while waiting for someone to come as her eyes wander incesantly over to her cellphone's screen. Every now and again she lets her guard down and looks toward the hallway with hopeful eyes. As minutes go by, she forces herself to be locked down in reading, making herself pretend that she's not hating every second gone by in waiting. Her hair, constantly falling down on her face, blocking her eyes from her forceful reading, brings a snort of desperation to her otherwise clenched lips.
I could not help myself from being mesmerized by her. My eyes were hopelessly locked on to her emotions, on to her desperation. The whole world took backstage to her anger, to her eyes. Every other moment, a small wind cruised through the room, altering everything around, changing the way her hair moved, making her skin shiver and her hands close on to one another.
Just another story, one of millions happening day in and day out around me. Just takes a small amount of perception and a great amount of luck.
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