Amidst the creak and clatter of the tracks beneath us, four eyes meet for a fleeting instant before darting away with unavailing politeness. The creamy brown tones of her glance linger in my mind as my eyes drift systematically across her torso, setting sail from her grip on the handrail - tethering our synchronised dance as the train makes its twists and turns.

My gaze continues along bare skin to the delicate neckchain rippling over her collarbone like a silver strand of hair, glinting under fluorescent tube lights. Her face looks exotic - perhaps the product of a passionate night between latino and oriental lovers, probably a few years before my own birth.

A wisp of hair celebrates escape from her carefree bun, curling across the tight waves of her silver dress dropping from both shoulders to meet at her center - not low, but framing a vast triangle of flawless skin above.

I close my eyes and savour the relaxed sigh of her breath passing over my cheek. And when I open them again, she is gone.