He stood in the warm sunlight, his body exuding the unhurried stance of a man with all the time in the world. He did have all the time in the world for a day almost every day. He never believed in hurrying through life like insignificant pollen blown away before they had their chance to make a difference. What better way to live than to enjoy and cherish every swirl of life's glass of wine?

The clouds were huffing and puffing across the sky shephered by the wind, a nanny walking a bunch of unrelenting and indifferent kids to another day at school. The wind was cold and washed away most of the warmth that the sun's rays anointed his skin with. Yet he felt fresh and wonderful, an unlikely thing for a cold autumn day. The leaves were past their browns and in their early yellows. An awful lot of them were now part of the carpet that autumn had sewn for the concrete pavements and where available the earth.

He stared across the town square, at nothing in particular. People were walking all along the streets, shopping for the coming week and taking in as much of the sunshine as they could gather. A saturday was always welcome and especially without the clouds pouring down upon them. As his eyes washed over the streets, he noticed a bright pink fluff in the crowds. It was the brightest colour in the whole scene. She seemed to float by people, almost untouched by the air around them. It seemed as if people parted away to let her pass.

He was amazed by the beauty of her face and the way her skin glowed in the golden light. She was not slim but carried about an unexplicable grace. It was accentuated by the bouncy brown hair that framed her cool blue eyes. Her eyebrows were sharp arches that stood guard over those undoubting, innocent eyes and her lips were painted in a light brown that humbly hid their lusciousness. The clickety-clack of her shoes seemed like music to his ears, the beat of the heel against rain-soaked concrete. As she walked past him, her hair playing with the wind, he caught a whiff of her subdued perfume. He could smell a hundred exotic scents in that single whiff. He greedily drew in his breath to lavish his lungs with the sweetness of her scent.

She looked at him from the corners of her eyes. Or did she? He believed she did. She did not give him a second glance though. Or maybe he did not she her tilting her head ever so slightly to catch a second glimpse of the tramp standing by the railing and with a look on his face and a stance on his body that seemed to tell people that he owned the world and they were mere pawns in the game of chess he played when he was bored. He looked on as she turned the corner and the last glimpse he had was of her coat's pink trail.