The sun is slowly lowering, and the streets start to liven up with the dinner crowd, and people getting off work.  Amber rays pierce the air and turn the world gold.  Sidewalks were caterpillars and centipedes with space and time.  People brush me as they pass, jostling my shoulders as if I were a ghost.  I know I’m not, but it’s moments like this that you wonder if people really do see you, or if you’re not the one that’s an empty shell searching for a life that you’ll never find.

Black shoes march through my brain, as high heels clip-clop like horses parting the sea of people, horses bumping into me; marginalizing me. 

It takes me a moment to understand what the situation is.  The sun sinks lower into the western horizon; the city of gold is going to slowly fade to dusk.  I assess the available light.  Numbers run through my head like a slot machine.  From past experience I decide what will make an impression, what will show the world what I see. 

ISO.

Shutter-speed.

Aperture.

“’scuse me maam but can i take your photo”

She looks at me, flattered, and without verbalizing an answer she poses: one hand on hip, the other behind her head.  I take my first shot.  The shutter opens and closes with a loud click as I attempt to capture a moment of unrestrained glamour. 

“now stand over here”

Her tight black leggings are tucked neatly into faux biker boots.  I start there, and take shots up to her thin leather headband. 

“i dont want you to smile but i want you to open your mouth so i can see youre teeth”

Her teeth are an honest pearly white, and are interrupted with a small gap on the top.  The sun paints her bronze and turns her into the statue of a goddess.

“is this good”

“grab your waist and drop your shoulders turn this way hold that now smile”

I seal these moments in eternity.  The yellow sun explodes into reds as it hits the horizon, and illuminates her perfect features; soft curves and gentle lines.

She thanks me, and continues walking on her way.  I step out of the rush of people that I’ve been holding up and look at my new moments that I’ve captured.  I peer down at the screen on my camera and look at the first image.  Her hair, her arms, her legs, her eyes captivate me.  She can’t be far away.  I have to find her.  That kind of beauty can’t be fleeting.  If I just run after her I’ll be able to see it again.  I look down the crowded line and on the sidewalk.  I watch the tired cement throb with tired feet. 

I don’t even know her name.  If I start running now I could likely find her.  She’s probably only a few feet away.  Why am I stalling?  The longer I wait, the further she gets away.  

My heart grows and breaks in the few moments that I romanticize the shared moment.  She’s gone.  I’m here with my feet still firmly planted.