Anybody Loves You

Claire sat by the window, tracing the rain tracing delicate paths on the glass. The world outside seemed gray and far away, much how she'd been feeling lately. Everyone around her seemed to have someone- friends, family, or a partner-whom they could rely on, laugh with, and share their day with. Claire, however, was invisible. She believed she's forgotten in the world.

She isn't lonely, not in the sense that she has friendships and coworkers who smile and ask how she spent her weekend. Deep within, though, that emptiness digs at the heart, confronting her mind with the question: Does anybody really love me?

She recalled her childhood- warmth of her mother's hugs, when her father ruffled her hair, called her his "little sunshine." And they were gone. Life had taken them all away too early. Claire felt that hole which she once had because of unconditional love, and with so many years having passed now, it still ached.

She didn't lack anyone to share her problems with-the people encircled her. It was that no one of them seemed really to see her, truly to understand her. Not the caricature of herself she projected at work or the mask she wore when socializing with acquaintances. She craved to be really seen-whole of her-complexity and cared about all her quiet moments and deep thinking and not the small talk she gave at parties.

One evening after one of the loneliest days in the office, Claire decided to take a walk. The rain had stopped, but the streets remained slick and shiny under city lights. She walked aimlessly, her thoughts a swirl of questions and doubts, until she found herself in front of an old bookstore she used to visit as a child.

Attracted by the smell of paper and the soft glow from within, she pushed open the door. The bell above jingled softly, and the warmth of the store embraced her. Shelves lined the walls with battered books, and in the corner, a small café offered coffee and pastries to those who wanted to lose themselves in a good story.

Claire wandered through the aisles, running her fingers on the spines of countless novels, when she chanced upon an old man sitting alone, reading quietly at a small table. Something about him felt inviting, and without really thinking, Claire found herself sitting down at the table next to him.

He looked up and smiled kindly at her. "Lost in thought?" he asked gently.

Claire nodded, feeling oddly comforted by his presence. "Just thinking about.life, I guess," she said to him.

The man closed his book and smiled more fully, his eyes crinkling. "Life's a strange thing, isn't it? Full of twists and turns, some of them lonely, some of them joyful.

Claire looked down at the table, uncomfortable. "Do you ever wonder if anybody actually loves you? Not superficially, but really truly, totally without condition?"

He smiles a little thinner in the mouth, his expression contemplative. "I used to wonder that, especially when my wife died. For a long time, I felt I didn't matter to anyone; I just was a drifter through life, without any real significance.".

Claire felt a jolt of identification. "How did you get through it?

"I learned something very important," the man said softly but firmly. "Love does not come as we imagine it. It comes in unassuming moments, and sometimes we seek big gestures and to have someone by us all the time so that we can prove that we are loved. But love is everywhere in those small things. In the smile of a stranger, in the warmth of a shared moment, when the world keeps turning despite our loneliness."

She sat in silence as he spoke, letting his words settle in. She had grown so numb to the unloving that she hadn't noticed those little moments of care: how her coworker always asked her how she was doing, or how the barista remembered her usual order. Maybe she was looking in all the wrong places, expecting love to fill every void, when what she had all along was little and quiet, a thing that visited her at night.

The elderly man stood up from his chair, rising from it. "You are loved," he said in a soft voice and smiled. "Sometimes we just have to let our hearts be opened up to love already there.".

She settled into the snug confines of the little bookstore as peace slowly settled over her, watching him disappear through the door. She hadn't realized till now that maybe love isn't something she had to go looking for. It was all there, intrinsically woven into this life of hers, in ways she hadn't noticed until now.

She stood up, feeling lighter in the heart and walked out of the store. It had started to pour again but was rather refreshing this time. Almost like a new beginning. Or maybe the old man was right. Maybe she already was loved; she just needed to believe it.

And for the first time in a long time, Claire smiled.