Thursday evening a woman looked at me. It’s past midnight on Saturday and I can still feel her eyes on me. She was a brunette with dark brown eyes. It only lasted an instant, but it seemed an eternity. I don’t know her name and I doubt she knows mine. I was walking with another woman, just friends, but someone I admit I used to have a thing for. In that moment it’s like she evaporated. It’s like everyone that was there evaporated. The rest of the world went up in smoke. This curvaceous mystery dressed in black wasn’t just looking at me, she was looking into me. When our eyes met I was incapable of looking away. A few thunderous seconds elapsed in our uninterrupted gaze. My lungs forgot to breathe. And before I could even process that part of my soul was leaving my body, my companion brought me back to earth, “oh, found friends” and I was whisked away to meet some people that, through no fault of their own, pale in comparison to this creature in black. Over 48 hours later I realize that walking away from that moment is the type of mundane tragedy that will claw at me during my waking hours and haunt me in cold sweats and sleepless nights.