It was three in the afternoon when I saw her. I was walking down the street on my way home, and there she was. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I was convinced she didn't belong here, not on this street, not this town, not here... and definitely not about to pass me.

She had her hair pulled back, her face long and symetrical, enticing lips, and a look about her that made her look like some kind of goddess.

And then she saw me.

At once her shining radiant eyes turned cold... I did not want her to see me as I looked. I did not want her to see me in my patched up clothes, my ripped tights, my hair in a messy mohawk draped over the side of my shaved head. It was the first time I'd felt unworthy to be in someones presence.

I'm not a lesbian, I'm not bi-sexual, but this woman was sex. She was beautiful in the most unconventional way I'd ever seen. I wanted to run to her, embrace her and tell her that she was stunning, that no one had ever appreciated her as much as I did right at that moment... but I didn't. I slumped over, put my head down and hoped to God she wasn't looking at me.

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