You pass a plain girl in the street.
Small, reserved, but with a lashing temper to contrast. Her heart is filled with sorrow about the man she will never have, and her grey eyes are often close to tears, tears filled with the thoughts of an unsuccessful future; of not achieving any of her well-sough-after dreams.
But you won’t know all of this from the first glance.
All you’ll see is a studious-looking girl: black glasses half hidden under the side-fringe of her blonde, curled hair, a girl wearing clothes that would belong to any woman double her age. Perhaps, triple, for the clothes wouldn’t seem to suit even any 30-year-old. But, of course, you won’t know that the woman you see in front of you is just a young girl.
Why then does your heart form passion for this person that you have never met?
A pencil drops from her writing pad, and as you lean down to pick it up with her, you suddenly see her second life through those eyes that now sparkle…
Perhaps she will one day have a great oppurtunity to show that intelligence and love that you have glimpsed?