Long brown hair flying behind her like a cape, she glided past me on her grape green bike. My eyes were drawn to her immediately for two reasons: the red bowler hat innocently crowning her elegant head, and her invincible smile. It was – and probably still is – customary, when cycling, to wear a helmet to protect the skull in the case of any accidents. What kind of protection could a bowler hat offer? This offensive hat seemed magically out of place, particularly because it did not move at all in the morning breeze.
And then there was the issue of her smile. She looked right at me with that smile and her deep brown eyes, all a-twinkle with the joy brought by the endless possibilities of life itself. Like a snake mesmerised by a flute, I watched her until the checked black-and-grey of her blazer disappeared round the corner.
Did such a creature even have a name? Did she speak to mere mortals? Was there ever a face so div- BEEP!
The angry horn of the car behind me interrupted my reverie. Spitting out a venomous swearword, I returned to the dull dregs of my solitary existence.