"There is nothing new under the sun. Your heartbreak is nothing new." The old man patted the young girl on the shoulders. Even after this sign of comfort, her tears still flowed freely.
"Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses," she quoted sarcastically, even through the tears. "I hate him! I hate him so much!" she yelled. The tears flowed harder still.
"Now, think about that dear. Do you really hate him, or is that just the pain talking?" Taking a tissue out of his pocket, he pushed her glasses off the bridge of her nose and wiped away the tears pooling on her cheeks.
"Maybe it's myself that I hate," she whispered, sniffling. Her tears lessened as her shoulders slumped even further. "He wouldn't hate me now if I hadn't done something wrong. I don't know what that was, but it must've been my fault."
"Rejection is never the rejected's fault," the old man told her. "He's the idiot who could look past your outside to see the wonderful person inside. One day he'll regret that."
The girl sniffled again and pushed her glasses into the correct position. She nodded and wiped away the remaining tears with the tissue he had long ago handed her. "Does it always hurt this much? Is love really nothing but pain?" Her eyes were red and puffy, but the look contained within was nothing short of pleading; for the happy answer, that fairy tale ending.
"Yes, it will always hurt." Her face fell. "But," her face lit up again. "When you find that right person, the pleasure, the joy, the love, it will far outweigh the pain experienced. The heart would never be that unfair." The old man stood up then, stretching his weary legs.
"So it can and will hurt, but in the end it's all worth it?" she asked, trying to make sure she had things right.
He nodded. "In the end, it's always worth it." He walked off, the girl staring after him.
"Always worth it," the girl repeated. For the first time that day, she smiled. "I like that."