Suzy sat pensively quiet, trapped by hopelessly romantic thoughts. She was alone in a populated room, separated by maturity, freakishness, social anxiety. Bondage pants, Cure t-shirt, and black, strapped jacket provided certain secure feelings as an invisible girl wrote short, small stories about her own life, protected through faux character name. Stars, hearts, etc were compulsively drawn when writer's block attacked, with mind drifting, once again, to him. He didn't yet know her feelings; how many subtle hints would it take before realization dawned upon the poor, beautiful man? Maybe someday he'd know just what his shy, younger friend felt.
