The Familiar Unfamiliar

I'm so out of touch with writing. I can't seem to put together thoughts without it sounded totally disjointed. I'm going to start doing some writing exercises here to get back in the groove. There was a time when this sort of thing wasn't so laborious. I won't be editing these posts, so they'll undoubtedly read like a collection of random thoughts. sorry.

There's a feeling of comfort that stems from his weathered face. Weathered beyond its years, but just slightly. Weathered from years of hard working, not hard living. That's my guess anyway. I don't know him, except in passing, despite the comfort that comes from his eyes. They squint with less than delicate crow's feet when he smiles, which is often. His face seems genuine. I want to call him friend because he brings so much comfort. A sense of discomfort, actually, but it's followed shortly by comfort and ease. I feel awkward in my interactions. Always. I don't imagine I would ever have the same effect on someone. There's something that radiates from within him. A quality that a gruff voice and rugged face shouldn't contain. He's more lumberjack than heartthrob, but his eyes shine and soften when he speaks of his wife. His vocal adoration of his wife is cute, but it's the unspoken thing, the look in his eyes when she is in his thoughts, or near him, that earns my admiration and jealousy.