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.

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