Dead Eyes

Once I saw a girl reading the phonebook as if it were a novel creating a storyline only she could understand. She stared intently at the yellow pages slowly sipping at a glass of ice tea. Her eyes were cold and dead as if she was only alive by some base instinct deep inside telling her to keep breathing. She was not aware she had died long ago. Visions of lost love and childhood trauma danced in her head as she silently screamed for someone any one to notice her. She wished she could feel anything for just a moment a spark of life. Anything to let her know she was still alive but no matter how hard she tried she still felt nothing. The years of isolation and fear had left her completely numb. She looked up only for a second and quietly said no more and I watched as what was left of her exit the thin frail body it had once called home. Quietly her body slumped in the booth seat of the small diner. I watched as people passed her to involved with there own lives to notice as she laid there dead and alone. I still wonder who was she the lonely girl with the dead eyes.