His face was pale. The soft color of fresh parchment. Swirls of freckles decorated his face in strategic patterns. His curly brown hair hung in front of his eyes. It had natural streaks of blonde that glowed in the shining sun. His nose was small and button like, centered perfectly between his eyes. His lips were thin; painted a deep red.
He looked about twelve yet he sat alone in the little coffee shop.
He clutched a coffee cup with both hands, holding it near his chest. Next to his cup was a rose folded from a napkin, sulking in the sun. Steam rose up from his mug in front of his eyes, fogging his thick rimmed glasses. His blue irises glistened behind the warm air like the ocean does in the sun.
But his eyes were sad. They held all the pain and anxiety of one much older than him. They held wisdom and experience. I saw a galaxy of thoughts and emotions in the little boy.
Every star was a person in his life.
But every star was fading.
He was hurt by those who were supposed to love him most, like his mother and father. He was kicked and punched by those who were supposed to be his friend. He was bitten too many times by his dog that loved all other people. He was abandoned by those who claimed they would always be there. He was robbed by those who wouldn’t even take from themselves. He was forgotten by those with keen memories. He was hated by those with the most beautiful hearts.
He was the exception. He was the cold cup of tea, the last drop that no one notices, the wilting flower that gets thrown away. He was the punching bag, the scream of torture, the forgotten child.

I saw him at the same table, in the same coffee shop, everyday for two months. He was my fascination. I watched him in awe as he moved elegantly through the tables, always finding the one he sat at the day before empty.
It was the one in the back. Away from the crowd of people. From there, he could see every person in the shop but no one ever noticed him. Everyday he folded a napkin into a rose and stared at it.
I walked up to him on the last day of November. Finally deciding to take care of him. Deciding that his eyes had glazed so much that he must not be living in this world anymore.
I approached him but he just stared into his coffee watching the gentle swirls of creamer collide with the edges of the mug.
He didn't notice me until I started talking. His galaxy eyes met mine. He lived in an entirely different world than me. His galaxy was filled will with disapproval and pain

Question

His face was pale. The soft color of fresh parchment. Swirls of freckles decorated his face in strategic patterns. His curly brown hair hung in front of his eyes. It had natural streaks of blonde that glowed in the shining sun. His nose was small and button like, centered perfectly between his eyes. His lips were thin; painted a deep red.
He looked about twelve yet he sat alone in the little coffee shop. 
He clutched a coffee cup with both hands, holding it near his chest. Next to his cup was a rose folded from a napkin, sulking in the sun. Steam rose up from his mug in front of his eyes, fogging his thick rimmed glasses. His blue irises glistened behind the warm air like the ocean does in the sun.
But his eyes were sad. They held all the pain and anxiety of one much older than him. They held wisdom and experience. I saw a galaxy of thoughts and emotions in the little boy.
Every star was a person in his life.
But every star was fading. 
He was hurt by those who were supposed to love him most, like his mother and father. He was kicked and punched by those who were supposed to be his friend. He was bitten too many times by his dog that loved all other people. He was abandoned by those who claimed they would always be there. He was robbed by those who wouldn’t even take from themselves. He was forgotten by those with keen memories. He was hated by those with the most beautiful hearts. 
He was the exception. He was the cold cup of tea, the last drop that no one notices, the wilting flower that gets thrown away. He was the punching bag, the scream of torture, the forgotten child.

I saw him at the same table, in the same coffee shop, everyday for two months. He was my fascination. I watched him in awe as he moved elegantly through the tables, always finding the one he sat at the day before empty. 
It was the one in the back. Away from the crowd of people. From there, he could see every person in the shop but no one ever noticed him. Everyday he folded a napkin into a rose and stared at it. 
I walked up to him on the last day of November. Finally deciding to take care of him. Deciding that his eyes had glazed so much that he must not be living in this world anymore. 
I approached him but he just stared into his coffee watching the gentle swirls of creamer collide with the edges of the mug. 
He didn't notice me until I started talking. His galaxy eyes met mine. He lived in an entirely different world than me. His galaxy was filled will with disapproval and pain

Cfrawley24 · Answer

That’s the begging of a story i wrote. It wouldnt let me write the whole thing though

ThisGirlPretty · Answer

It's fine

ThisGirlPretty · Answer

@563blackghost

563blackghost · Answer

I love the space terms in dis :3 It's really good, though can I suggest something?

ThisGirlPretty · Answer

I really liked this part "He was the cold cup of tea, the last drop that no one notices, the wilting flower that gets thrown away. He was the punching bag, the scream of torture, the forgotten child."

563blackghost · Answer

it speaks alot o-o

ThisGirlPretty · Answer

Ikr?? o-o

563blackghost · Answer

i love the inclusion of space.

For example, "I saw a galaxy of thoughts and emotions in the little boy."

And the galaxy you see in the eyes is great as well, it tells of such infinite thoughts and feelings one may have. How some stars may be bright with light, yet can have some that may be dim with sadness. Or burst into supernovas of pure light. Brilliant!

Cfrawley24 · Answer

Thank you TGP.

Cfrawley24 · Answer

Awwww. Thanks 563.

563blackghost · Answer

I wanted to say that the first two sentence should be compounded instead of two sentences.

ThisGirlPretty · Answer

You're welcome. I like the way your style is in writing. In my opinion I think you should keep going.

Cfrawley24 · Answer

Okay... i get that. But i think i did it like that for the effect of pauses and stuff for emphasis

563blackghost · Answer

Yea I noticed that, so I'm kind of iffy on it.

Cfrawley24 · Answer

TGP thank you. I write a lot. The story is finished i just cant put it all int for some reason

ThisGirlPretty · Answer

It's fine. It already sounds good