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IT WAS A chilly Friday afternoon when Aidan saw her on the sidewalk across the busy Manhattan streets.

Well, it was kind of impossible not to see her. She stood with her arms spread out like wings, a bird ready to catch the wind and take flight. Her head was tipped back, staring up at the sky, golden curls billowing wildly around her like a halo. A pile of shopping bags lay on the ground by her side, long forgotten.

People were giving her a wide berth, some giving annoyed or slightly worried looks, but she seemed not to notice. Aidan stopped and stared, confused, bewildered and captivated all at the same time.

He watched as she twirled, her long coat spinning around her, her curls bouncing. She laughed, and when she turned, Aidan caught the look on her face.

Complete and utter wonder.

This, Aidan thought, was what his mother - a photographer and an artist - would call a picture perfect moment.

Suddenly the girl stopped and looked straight at Aidan, as if she had felt his gaze on her. She waved, giving him a grin and Aidan blushed, mainly because it was embarrassing to be caught staring at a stranger and partly because he blushed for just about everything, since he was just a rather awkward person in general.

He looked around, wondering whether he should wave back or if that would be too weird, when a city bus passed in front of her.

When he looked back once the bus had left, she was gone.

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