Pain, Suffering, and Numb

Hey You

  Her hair is pulled behind her hair in some sort of braid. It rests perfectly behind her neck and trails down the back of her blue shirt. She's ignoring me right now, but that's okay. At the moment she's manning the register and she's doing something that I'm confused just looking at. This menial task, something that no beauty or grace should be found in, has been turned into something of an art. Something perfected after being performed more times than one cares to count. It's almost soothing to see her work, the way she's totally comfortable in what she's doing. Those eyes, usually so captivating, have been captivated by the bland task ahead of her, and I love it. Something in me snapped a long time ago, and now I see her here, just working, and it makes me happier than anything has in months. Maybe those clothes she is wearing are meant to be bland and unnoticeable, but when she wears them they become the single most beautiful articles of clothing this world has seen. They seem to compliment every slight curvature of her body. Their colors work with the natural tones of her own skin to create the beautiful picture I'm trying to depict. It's not the clothes that make this change happen, it's her. The simple aura she seems to exude, an almost palpable thing that can either lift your spirits, or break your heart. She raises you up when all others thought you were irretrievable, she makes a man contemplating taking his own life think about why life is still worth living, and most importantly, when she smiles, you smile. Sadly, or maybe luckily, she doesn't realize that she can have this affect on others. She doesn't seem to see what just her presence will do to lift the pressure off the backs of those around her.