Write a story which begins with two people waiting for someone.
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Every day she walked past him on her way to work.
Every day he sat by the same building and watched her in hopes she would glance in his direction. He didn't know where she went, but he knew she always went inside the post office and he also knew what kind of coffee she liked (her post office visits were always preceded by a stop at the corner coffee vendor). At night, at home, he couldn't get his mind away from her smile. He spent an hour each evening working on songs about the life they'd have once she looked his way.
She went to work each day and did her job almost on autopilot while she daydreamed about another lifetime... A lifetime she knew she was meant to have. At night she lay in bed and wrote poems about honesty, fear, inspiration, and the future. She would then open the phone book and pick a name at random- she loved picking people who only listed their first initial. She would fantasize about their first name sometimes coming up with absurd or silly guesses that amused her. Every morning she would mail out the envelope enclosed with poetry describing her most personal feelings. She didn't have a motive for doing so, she only wanted to tell someone how she felt and hope that her words would evoke emotion in a world she thought was rapidly becoming numb to true compassion or honesty.
One day he came home from his spot next to the building and saw he had a letter in the mail. He was instantly intrigued- in a day and age with email, online bill pay and cell phones one rarely received actual mail. He grabbed the envelope and ran up the stairs to his apartment and delicately opened it- being cautious not to tear it unnecessarily. Inside was a hand written poem (hand written!) about a girl who spent her afternoons walking through her garden talking to the flowers, rabbits, and bees. She told them about her day, and about the people she met. When she was sad, they listened and when she was happy they shared her good fortune. He read the poem through to the end, and then he read it again. That night he took the poem, inspired, and wrote a song.
The next morning he went to his usual spot next to the building, took out his guitar, and played his music with the anonymous lyrics that so inspired him.
That same morning on her way to the post office she walked past the boy who was there every morning playing his love songs, and heard lyrics that made her pause. This boy was playing her poem, with beautiful notes, and raw emotion in his voice. For the first time that she could remember, she stopped to watch him play. He played her song through to the end, and she smiled at him until he finished. The small crowd started to clear and she was hustled away with everyone else.
Everyday after that morning she stopped to listen to him play, sometimes they just smiled at each other, and other times she had to leave before he finished and so she would drop a piece of paper with a smiley face or a heart in his guitar case. She continued to send anonymous letters to people from the phone book- but one address became quite regular in her mailings.
One day he hoped she would stay long enough that he could tell her that she had been his inspiration all along, that even the anonymous letters he received made him think of her.
One day she hoped she could work up the courage to actually talk to him, tell him the secrets that he sang to the world were hers.