Irene

it is getting dark, the clouds shrouding the sun as it sets. my train arrives and i get in, choosing to stand next to the door's window so i can watch the sun slowly fade into nothingness. but as i settle into a comfortable standing position, i notice her. she's studying in the same school as me and her name's irene. i've always thought she has a lovely smile. she is reading dear john, and is silently mouthing each word. i've been out with her a few times, and i know that she likes taking photographs, of every single random thing. she always go au naturel, never an iota of make-up on her face. she usually dress in black. she's not a girly girl, really. she has always been an optimist. i admire her faith. she's an art student, and she looks the part too. the sky is in streaked with smudged pink and orange melding into one another and the light falls on her, and her hair is brown with streaks of red. her phone beeps and she picks it up, and she grins to herself. that lovely smile.

and in that moment, with the sun bathing her in its soft, gentle, smudged pink and orange light, with her lovely smile, she shined.