loneliness is the most terrible poverty

his lower lip was fastened firmly between his teeth, his chewing opening up old cuts and the slight zing of copper taste filled his mouth. his blue eyes were concentrated on reviewing the last few photos he’d taken on his camera, each one making his heart beat faster. he became aware of a presence on the park bench beside him and quickly switched off his camera. he didn’t want anyone else looking at her. his eyes flit to the person next to him,  but his mouth didn’t move to form a greeting. he wore his silence like a leather jacket. instead, he just openly stared, as though he could surmise their entire background with a look.