Her hair looked like fire.
That's the first thing he saw. It looked as though an aura of flame was billowing around her. Little charcoal black strands were tucked behind her ear, but the rest of it flew in the wind. The orange sunlight cut through it like light in darkness. It illuminated her face and made her ebony eyes sparkle.
She was looking out of the window. He sat down next to her in the only vacant seat in the whole train. She didn't even stir.
The train lurched forward.
He watched her from the corner of his eyes. Her hands were short and stubby. They were smeared with paint. Her nails were bleeding. She nervously clasped them around a pencil that she was holding.
She was trying to draw something in the book that she had placed on her lap. It was fraying on the edges, dog eared and torn in many place. She had scribbled all over it. But there was one empty page and she was drawing a portrait into it. She kept on erasing it. Again and again she made the paper empty and began from scratch. It took him a while until he understood whose resemblance she was trying to capture. It was self portrait. But it was all wrong. Her eyes were more shapely, her smile prettier, her hair more startling. She saw herself as much less than she was.
She suddenly stood up, and walked away, leaving her book on her seat.
He pondered on what to do next. His stop was fast approaching. He gathered up his bags and got ready to leave.
The last second, he turned around and opened her book. He scribbled something and quickly left it in the same place.
The girl with the flaming hair returned to take her seat. She was glad that he was gone. He was slightly creepy. She opened her book once again to stare at her own image. Filled with flaws and imperfections and hurt. Just like her. Instead she found something written there for her.
'You are more beautiful than you think.'