A skinny white girl, hair in a severe pony tail, purse awkwardly thumping in time to her heart against her side. She watches too closely for pickpockets.
She sees:
A broad man, tattoos peeking out from a stained white tank top along with matted chest hairs.
Moving quickly:
He takes the seat next to her, shifting his bulk on the hard yellow-and-white plastic.
She starts:
The girl's tiny frozen smile, fast flushing cheeks, her nervous darting eyes. The lashes flutter with too much mascara.
He notices and:
A slow warm grin coming over his now-friendly face. A half-melted crayon of a smile, or brownies that burn fresh out of the oven (but taste so much better that way).
He watches:
As I (palegirltoomuchmakeuppretentiousnovel) smile back.