Just to give those here an example of my writing, albeit a slightly old one!
She'd felt this way for a while. It was a strange sort of emptiness that settled in the pit of her stomach like an overcooked scone. She smiled at those around her and laughed at their jokes. She was as normal as anyone else around her and acted as if the world was hers. Maybe it had been once.
But now everything had changed and there was a darkness about herself that she didn't like anymore.
As she sat at a coffee shop table, she pondered these feelings. A doctor would call it depression.
But it felt so much more than that. It was a soul consuming loneliness that made her bones hurt and her withered little heart rattle around in it's bone cage. Her lazy fingers grazed the spoon that sat on her saucer. Her drink was cold by now. The marshmallows slumped against the cup, forgotten.
A woosh of air and a beam of sunlight striking the cold floor tiles signalled the entrance of him. The only bright spot in her day. Everyday he entered at eleven o'clock on the dot as he took his coffee break from work, a paper in his hand. He ordered a flat white with trim milk, laughing personably with the barista. He sat at the same table everyday, just across from hers, in the sunniest spot in front of window. He took out his paper and began to read. Glancing over the articles, she had noticed that he skipped over the sad ones with a slight frown, moving onto the local interest story of the little boy who saved his dad's life. When his coffee came, his warm, white smile was always returned with a geniune "You're welcome!"
When she thanked the server, she was only ever rewarded with a slight nod. It was his charisma. It filled the room and made it sunnier. Warmer. His presence lifted her darkess, if only for a few minutes. At half past he collects his paper together, wraps his scarf back around his neck and says a cheerful goodbye, a sparkle in those marvellous eyes.
And then the world is dark again and she is returned to her slump.
But for those precious minutes, her life meant something. All other time was just waiting for him to return and refill her day.
As she sat at her table, shrowded in shadows, she gathered her information about this man that meant so much to her. He had no ring on his finger. No family pictures in his wallet. His long coat was covered in hair resembling dog fur. The scarf was handknitted by a loving hand, with careful stitching, but messy all the same. It held a few holes where stitches had been dropped. It was loved, and whoever had made it loved him. His eyes creased at the sides and laugh lines etched his cheeks that dimpled when he smiled. He never half smiled, just lips, no teeth. It was always full, and dazzling.
She watched him everyday as he came and went.
And then, one day, everything changed. He sat at her side of the shop, just as happy as ever.
She was put out though. This new position was not so good for her casual observations. If she wished to watch, it was more likely that she would be seen and invisibility was central to her observations.
So as she read the book that she know brought with her, she was no longer watching.
Instead, he was watching her. She had enough experience in being stared at to know when someone was staring at her. She looked up shyly.
The man smiled warmly at her, his eyes creasing as he did so. She turned back to her book, her cheeks burning. As he left the shop, he walked past, his coat brushing her as he did so. He graced her with a special smile. She felt the darkness that had encased her heart lift with his light.
Returning his smile, she flushed once again.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" His soft, deep voice asked.
Her eyes met his and she nodded.
"I guess I'll see you then."
"I guess so..." She whispered as he walked back down the high street, a slight spring in his step.