She Made My World Beautiful

I don't know how I ever got by in life before I saw her face, those soft brown eyes and freckled cheeks, the way she was so amazingly ordinary. She had light olive skin and milk chocolate coloured hair, she was wearing washed out blue jeans and a dark purple knit jumper and she was so carefree. A camera was hung around her neck and she was sat on the edge of a fountain in London, a leather bound notebook on her lap and a pen sticking out between her pouting lips. She blended in seamlessly to the London backdrop, you could look over the scene a thousand times and she still wouldn't stand out. Her grey lace socks tucked into her grey leather boots, which were tapping lightly on the grey dusty floor. Everything was so ordinary; yet she was not. To me, she stood out like the moon on a dark starry night, like the sun in a cloudless blue sky, like an ordinary girl in the middle of London. I sat on the nearest high wall watching her, as she chewed on the tip of her pen deep in thought and as she re tied her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, she seemed focused, every once in awhile she would look up at the world around her taking in the people walking by and the faces going past, then she would check her watch and resume her previous thoughts and stare at her notebook and once again nibble on the pen.

After 20 minutes or so of me sitting there watching her, she reached down to something on her far side, the side I couldn't see, and produced a water bottle. After sipping the clear drink and replacing it to where it was she sat up straighter and stared straight ahead and leant back slightly, fingers dipping into the water behind her. She seemed to let out a sigh. Tipping her head back she looked up to the sky, the weather was warm with a chill breeze, pleasant in the light but cold in the shadows, she stretched out her legs and wriggled her ankles and most likely her toes too. I was content watching her. The most ordinary girl ever. I then adjusted my own position on the stone wall, untucking my leg and letting it dangle over the edge. My bare leg scratching against the hard surface, the wind whipped at my face and I pushed my grungy blue hair out of my view, hair getting caught on the many silver piercings pinned in my ears. I paused then to take in my own appearance in comparison, she was so flawless in being ordinary and I was flawed in being so unordinary, I looked down at the loose black skirt that sat around mid-thigh hanging over my legs, one hard, black and metallic the other soft, pink and real.

I looked up again once more to view the ordinary girl. I wished to speak to her, to see if her voice was as ordinary as her face, to hear if her life was as ordinary as her clothes. I wanted to learn about her likes and dislikes, to know if she was as flawless as she seemed. She was standing now, notebook seemingly put away, however I could see the pen was still in her mouth. How long had I not been paying attention. She was holding the camera to her face, twisting the lens before lowering the camera taking a step back  and raising it once more. I watched as she tilted the camera and went on tip toes, seemingly happy as she lowered her heels to the ground and smiled. She took the pen out of her mouth and she wrote a note on the back of her tanned hand. She looked up to the sun and smiled, a bright white flawless grin, and as she lowered her head she shook it slightly grinning to herself. She looked as if she was going to spin around in a circle, arms wide giggling any moment; but she never did.

The ordinary girl sat down once more, replacing the cap on her camera. She pulled out her notebook and placed her pen back in between her pink lips, she looked down deep in thought and tapped her boot on the ground, and ran a hand over her messy bun tucking a loose stand back into the slowly tangling  mess. I sat watching her and only her. Not the world going past or the clouds floating by. Only her. The most ordinary things weren't as ordinary as her, the tourists bumbling by, their maps flowing out of their hands and multiple cameras around their necks, the middle aged women sat drinking coffee with thirty bags at their sides, the teenagers with backpacks and trainers walking in and out of galleries; nothing as normal as her. She stood up and pulled a pink canvas bag on to the ledge she'd been sat on and packed her notebook and camera away, tucking the pen into the front of it, she pulled out her bottle of water and stood looking around sipping her drink for a few minutes. She then put that away too.  I swivelled from my spot and stood up, slowly stretching out my legs and eased the joints after staying still for so long. I picked up my own dark green bag and pulled it onto my back, I turned back to look again at the ordinary girl to see she was not there. I frowned and looked around at the ordinary world to find an ordinary girl and for the first time I couldn't see. I sighed and let my shoulders drop, I scuffed up my black creepers against the dried up chewing gum on the floor and looked back up to the world around me.

And there she was, the most ordinary girl, right in front of me. She was smiling, standing no more than a metre away. The most ordinary girl who made my world beautiful.