Her hair hung in an oily brown bob over her slouched shoulders. Her fake nails felt years old, they pulled at her real ones and caused her great pain everyday. Her smile was flat, almost non-existent. A pair of glasses clung to the bridge of her nose in a rather unflattering way. She had her hands stuffed into oversized open-leg jeans.

That’s when she saw her.

Her hair fell in a neat coffee brown bob above her shoulders, acrylic nails clacking on one of those unnecessarily, excessively noisy keyboards. Her smile was sly, almost unintentional-looking, but it suited her well. Her fingers were slender and they transitioned from coffee mug to keyboard without a sound. A pair of thin-rimmed spectacles sat snuggly atop her chiselled nose.

If I were being honest, she looked like me- I’m not saying I’m pretty or that my hair isn’t oily, but she was me.

The same way people smiled at her, they smiled at me too.