They sit next to each other on the train in utter silence. He stares into the distance, looking as if he's about to fall asleep. She is staring at her phone, tapping at it and appearing just as bored. They appear the same age, of the same ethnicity. Their clothes are of similar colours, and both outfits are appropriate to the colder weather and stylish at the same time. But they appear to be strangers.

Look again.

They might not be looking at each other, but they stay close. She leans her head on his shoulder as she continues to look at her phone. He shifts his body weight unconsciously to accommodate her. Every so often, they make fleeting eye contact, sharing an age of feelings and memories that remind them of their place in the world.

Keep looking.

She comes across something funny on her phone, she shows it to him. He looks, and suddenly, words come pouring out. They build a world with their conversation, blocking out all the other commuters. Most of the others on the train won't notice this, but some will. Some will notice that something about their environment has changed; there is a different feel in the air. Yet all they will see are two people, deep in conversation.

Look again.

When the conversation dies down, silence will reign again. They will look just as they did before. But now, now it can be seen; now it can be felt. The world that is theirs-the world that is their relationship and feelings and memories and thoughts-it can be felt. It can be seen. Even if the sight is not a tangible one, it can be seen. And some may wonder where it came from, without realising that it had been there all along. It's just that now they are able to see it.

Keep looking.

These tiny, tiny details, the ones that create a picture. They may not be obvious to the outside world, but all the same, keep looking and they will be seen.

After all, this is what love is.