Faces.

The girl pulls away from her hug, her face red and blotchy, her eyes swollen. She’s been crying. Embarrassed, I glance away just as our eyes make contact. I climb the stairs past her, she starts to descend. She looked like she’d just broken up with somebody, and needed her friend for comfort.

Walking back to work, I walk past a guy who can’t stop smiling. Perhaps he’s just gotten together with a new girl. He had the smile of a man who’s just gotten some, perhaps as long ago as last night. Good for him, he’s happy, but he’s not so focussed on notches on his bedpost that he doesn’t feel anything any more.

It’s funny how much you can sometimes take from a face alone. No words, no nothing else. Just a face.