I had always loved children. Their smiles that were too big for their faces, and their loud giggles. I always felt bad when I saw a child crying.
His hair was a light golden-brown, and it curled at the edges. The baby sitting at the table next to me reminded me of my boyfriend's little brother. Tears just streamed down his face as he cried, and cried, ignored from his parents. The situation reminded me of how alone I have felt in the past.
So I lifted my hand, and wriggled my fingers at him. He opened his eyes, wide and staring. Still, he continued to sob, but not as forcefully.
I smiled bigger at him and the sounds he cried out stopped. He sniffled and continued to look at me.
He wouldn't remember that moment because he was so young, but I would.
And I felt beautiful because eventually he smiled, and the little kid deserved happiness. Even if it came from a stranger.
YOU ARE READING
When I Felt Beautiful
Short Story"feeling beautiful has nothing to do with what you look like. i promise" -emma watson // a collection of moments when ainsley torrid felt beautiful
