creative writing from english

A young woman attracts my attention most afternoons. She is fairly skinny, always clad in jeans. Her long brown hair appears thick and is often gathered up in a ponytail. She enjoys sitting, upon the plastic bench at the park near my house, facing toward the trees. Her eyes are dark and deep, and seem to hint at some sort of secret lingering behind them. Movement is barely ever noticeable; her feet remain attached to the ground, her back at a slight slouch. Covering her with grey paint would make her a convincing statue.
We are told it is impolite to stare, yet I find her intriguing. Something about her causes me to look each time I pass by her sitting there, petrified in her own world, unable to be touched. Still, even as an onlooker, I have recognized her captivating feature.
Upon first glance her secret seems impossible to find, but if you look again, and then once more, you see it is about as veiled as the ingredients in a cake mix; which are clearly printed on the back. Her secret is written on her face, through her still lips and penetrating, yet still, eyes. The atmosphere that envelops her can be recognized as one of hurt and disappointment. Clearly she is suffering from a broken heart.
Here is where the actual mystery comes in. While it is evident that her heart has been crushed, it is impossible to say why. My first thought would be the natural explanation; a long time boyfriend deciding that she was not what he wanted, all the while knowing she loved him with all she possessed. Nevertheless, thinking deeper, it is probable that this is not the case at all, and it entertains me to think of the possible situations.
Perhaps she has been hurt by a family member, a long time dispute that holds no promise of quick resolve. Still even more, it is entirely realistic that she has been let down by people as a whole. She feels unloved and alone; torn between wanting to trust people and recalling how many times she has been wounded by doing just that. Maybe that is why she comes to the bench, and sits, motionless. Perchance there she is able to think, and feel a sort of comfort; surrounded by the sounds of nature in contrast to the sounds of the hurtful words that torment her mind.