When its Broken

He said it with a smile, but it wasn’t a happy one. In fact, it was barely one at all if you looked closely. Just a grimace with some pretence. He rubbed his arms through his jacket, staving off the cold as he gave a sidelong glance. His eyes always seemed so tired, but somehow ominous. Like he was waiting for something that would never come.

"Isn’t that a song?" You asked, to lighten the mood.

He nodded, “Everything is a song.”

As a self-esteem exercise; treat yourself like a character, think of how an author would write you.