The
elevator ride... a small space almost designed to
violate your
personal space. You are
uncomfortably connected with every
sweaty,
smelly, old, young, talking, humming, busy,
meandering, loud, or silent person you stand next to. The ride takes
forever... until
she steps in.
A breath of
fresh air as the door opens and then another fills your
nostrils as you see
her smiling face walk into the
compartment. Yes
HER. Your personal
space is no longer being
violated, but rather
blissfully shared. Her
scent is in the air as she walks in; light,
feminine, yet
strong and beautiful. Your thoughts move onto her
presence, yet you can't turn to
look, for she would notice your
fixation.
She stands next to you; far enough to be
separate, but
close to
sense her being. "Fourteen, please." Her
voice rings in the
darkness like a
thousand silver bells, all
rung for you. She takes her place next to you and
suddenly, all the other passengers are now gone in
spirit; only your
anonymous companionship with her is left. Her
light dress settles into
place shortly after her, and the car begins its ascent.
You only have
moments together. Yours thoughts don't turn to
lust, or
future, or
relationship, but her smell, her
breath, and that little
glow about her face as she
smiles. She was put there for you, it seems, a ray of
sunshine in the old
business-suit world. Those light
glimpses of her that
infect you and
engulf you; they make you want more…like a
butterfly on your hand; so
beautiful that you must hold it, but so gentle you mustn't
startle it, or it will fly away, never to be seen again.
She
sways gently to the
grumbling motion of the
people mover, another
helpless traveler in the confines of the
machine. She
brushes your
hand; her skin so
gentle and
smooth... Both of you laugh
nervously; did she feel that too? A burst of
cold and hot; a
tingling,
sensual, and wonderful
flash of
energy draws up your arm, making you pull it away. You draw your hand back and put it in your pocket. Hesitant to show your
intent, but craving
more, you hold back and let
society win over your
curiosity and
cravings. You feel how much you could lose
yourself, if you had just one more
second to hold that hand.
With the bell akin to the end of a
class, the doors fly open to her
floor. You watch as your
object of
rapture begins her
departure. She walks out of the
steel jaws into the light of
business and
professionalism, your
minute over. In the last moment she turns back to you, smiles and gives a quaint "
Goodbye!" as if she knew you. Your moment is ripped away by the
gate of your
artificial prison,
summoned by the old man quick on the "
close door"
button. "Did you not see that?" you
think to him. "Did you not see that?"
It won't leave your
mind... There it
burns into your
memory. Everything about that
split second will never leave your
being; the
smile, her
bright green eyes, the way her
hair fell across her
shoulders...her
scent… oh her scent. All of it, a glimpse of this one person; an
angel sent to ruin a day’s work with her smile.