He spotted her on the crowded Manhattan bound 5 train during rush hour. Bodies clashing tightly together, he took the opportunity to suck in as much of her scent as humanly possibly without pushing his limit and breaching a blunt halt to his fascination. Chanel No.5, a scent too intoxicating to be mistaken as unfamiliar. The train roughly swayed their bodies, as if on cue, his eyes shuffled her curves with each bumpy motion. Damn, if only I could touch her, he thought. Allowing the people around them to push and pull them like puppets in a romantic play, smoothly she sunk within him. Her back collided into his hard, magnificent chest, feeling as much of him as she could. Images of his bear skin touching her bare back, flashed like fireworks popping inside of her, already alert, brain. A slight smirk surfaced across his face, abruptly alarming her to pull forward and balance amongst the rest. She softly apologizing without emotion. His stop was vastly approaching but strangely, he felt the need to travel along with her like her scent until she and/or it disappeared. The train stopped, Grand Central, a stop before his and with the crowd she moved. His eyes shuffled across the faces of many but he could not find hers; she was gone. The next day, in hope to once again be graced with her beauty, he traveled the same route but his mystery lady was never to be seen again. Madness swarmed his head with regret, as he punishes himself daily for never speaking to what could have been his “one”.