I have always been one to love watching people, to love noticing the little things not everybody sees.
The way he tauntingly stared back into my eyes, a gesture of openess, his icey eyes somehow guarded.
Or the way she looks after him when he walks past her, like she did the first time he said hello past us in the crowded hallway. I will never forget the smile on her face, the small shake of her head, the secrets hidden in the blush of her cheeks.
The way she still looks after him, watches him intentely, when he hasn´t looked her way since they broke up.
I like to see couples in the city. Happy couples. Couples that are about to break, the looks on their faces as their eyes follow strangers, the girl pushing her hair back in a weak attempt to make use of her hands, not enclose din his anymore. The way he keeps looking down at his phone, counting the minutes, unsure of what else to say, what else to do, so completely unaware of all the ideas he´s planting in her mind.
The shake in a girls voice when she´s sitting in the corner at a party, grasping her phone, her knuckles white, reading through old messages, trying to keep herslef planted in reality and not lost in memories. Trying to hold back the tears that have welled up in her eyes.
The boy and girl who everyone thought would stay together forever ending things in the cafeteria, him leabing with furrowed brows and confusion written all over his face, her smile bright and shaking as she closes her eyes, tears daring to spill out from behind her eyelashes.
That lost look in someone´s eyes after they find out they were wrong about a person, all their hope burnt away in a mere second.
The look of terror on the face of someone being called out of class, the screams of sorrow sounding from the hallway moments later. The worried, somehow fearful, faces as people look around the classroom in shock, trying to find an explanation. The fidgeting of the ones who don´t need explaining, the ones who understand. The teachers lecture silenced, causing even more attention to the cries.
The way her eyes never lit up the same anymore, the way her laugh always seemed to sound too loud, too coppery after that day.
The way she would forever blame herself.
The silent solidarity of two girls, strangers seconds ago, huddled together at the train platform when the only source of light is the flickering lamp above them.
The sound of sobs coming from the last bathroom stall at school, the senior girl you´ve never talked to being the one to bring you tissues.
The sweet, short glances two newly `talking´ kids give each other, knowingly happy, secretly falling, as they pass each other in the hallways.
It´s the little things that make out the way you know a person, the way you end up recognizong yourself in everyone you meet.