You’ve sworn you’ve seen her in a dream before. Maybe at a coffee shop. At the bookstore. At your local gym. Actually, she seemed to appear in your life more often than not when you least expected it. She’s stunning, in the way the first light of the day shines through a dew covered meadow. You can feel your breath slipping away with each encounter. But there’s something about her that you couldn’t understand. Everything she did had intention. Turning the page of a book. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Gestures so ordinary appear hypnotically erotic. Teasing you. Drawing you in. It’s as if she knew there were eyes on her. An exhibitionist, she was putting on a show. So you make an effort to witness her.