Start Fiction:
Harry Brown's movement seemed to indicate he was in great pain, but that was just how he carried himself. Each step gave the impression it was difficult; his shoulders slouched forward as though the agony was too much to bear; his work belt, with one shoulder strap hanging down, gave you the sense he was broken down. Unshaven, unbathed; he looked horrible.
Today things were not so different, but there was something about Harry that made everyone notice. A few people thought he was standing taller. Some thought he was wearing fresh clothing. Some even thought he trimmed his beard. No, it wasn't anything that vain, it was simply that he was producing a slight smile, of sorts.
It was three-quarters through their shift before Jenny figured out that was the difference, and she was the only one Harry wanted to notice. Intrigued, Jenny made the effort at late break to try and strike up a conversation. Harry was receptive, at least for Harry.
She talked more, asked him questions to which he gave many one or two word answers; but he was communicating. Harry didn't smile more broad or even let out as much as a chuckle at her little jokes, but he did make eye contact and that was something he did very rarely with very few people.
Jenny knew there were changes to Harry, big changes, even if the only thing everyone actually noticed was his pseudo-smile. While they chatted, Jenny could tell he wanted to talk, but was unsure; not nervous, unsure.
The image of someone flipping a switch located on the back of his head under the still mangled mess of hair kept flashing through her mind. maybe he's on medications, came in to money, or maybe he even met someone.
Oddly, she felt a tinge of jealousy.
End Fiction.
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