sonder: the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own

or

she couldn't stop reading people in order to create someone new

she was walking the streets looking for a story. she was an author and she needed a character so she took to the strees of New York to find someone.

hey eyes scanned the crowds of people walking with her. Man in a suit yelling into the phone- owner of a business, married with two children, trouble at home because he was married to his job to provide for his family.

no, too generic.

woman in torn jeans, battered white converse with doodles on them, a simple white t-shirt with random smudges of color, had messy and pulled back in a ponytail with a tote ball full to bursting at her side- art student, struggling, working some boring job to make it through, with parents who disagree with her choices and would much rather see her be a lawyer, or something easier.

better storyline, but still, common.

she was too busy sweeping her eyes over the crowd that she almost walked straight into another person, except he caught her shoulders before she could. she turned to look at him and her breath caught in her throat. 

a boy with his hood up, covering his fluffy looking dark hair, dark, serious eyes and squishy cheeks paired with plump lips and a slightly bigger nose, in jeans and a band shirt, a band that she liked, actually, (it was one republic) and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head.

she couldn't read him. college student perhaps, but he looked too old. working at a boring job trying to get along? got in a fight with his girlfrieand(or boyfriend, she didn't judge) and was walking it off?

she didn't know and it bothered her.

"sorry," she said and side-stepped to let him pass.

"you're fine," he said, and oh, interesting, he was irish. "looked like you were thinking pretty hard."

"i, um, yeah," she said. "i was, um, i'm trying to write a book."

"interesting," he said politely.

she cursed herself. this attractive peoson probably thought she was weird for telling him what she was doing.

"i need a character," she found herself babbling. "and i couldn't think of one so I went for a walk to see if I could find a person to base my character on but the people I've been seeing are too generic and common and i almost ran into you and um, would you, i mean i understand if you wouldn't want to, i'm a stranger, but um, would you mind if i based my character on you?"

she stopped, horrified at all the talking she'd done.

luckily, the boy smiled at her. "sure, i would think it'd be an honor."

she was taken aback. "really? but I'm a stranger."

he shrugged. "so are friends until you say hello. besides," he winked. "i had a feeling you were an author. i do the same thing, except for songs."

and he was the first person who didn't find her strange.