CLOSE ENOUGH

Every smile. Every laugh. Every pleasantry. He hopes they're buying it. He hopes his facade is fooling everyone into thinking he's still capable of joy. He needs to fool them. If he keeps up the act-- if they believe-- maybe one day he'll get so used to acting it'll become the truth.
He wonders if his smile to the girl at the coffee shop looks as plastic and hollow as it truly is. He worries that instead of coming across as warm and friendly, he comes across as an empty husk. A shell. Does this smile comfort her or creep her out? Can he fake charming and well-adjusted enough to find some semblance of love again one day? Trying the smile on the coffee shop girl is a miniscule first step.
Because being alone is one thing, but-- and he knows this isn't an original thought-- being lonely is another. Being lonely in a crowd. Feeling alone when with a group of friends,... He thinks he needs somebody. He needs to make someone else happy to justify his existence. Maybe he can trick himself into being happy as well.
She'll never know that he's keeping her at arm's length. He'll go through the motions without letting on that it's all an act to feel human again. Is it deceitful? Is it unfair to whomever the future "her" will be? Maybe. He concedes this. But if she's happy-- if he can do things to make her happy, and maybe not feel completely alone and empty in return-- it's justified.
She'll feel true love and closeness if he does a credible enough job. He won't let on that it's an act. A fabrication. He'll be the version of himself, capable of happiness and trust and opening himself up to another, that he's always wanted to be. Eventually, he hopes, he too will believe the lie.
Someday, if he's lucky, the smiles will become genuine.
Or close enough.