Struck

As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment.  And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.  And then the moment was gone.

~ John Steinbeck ~

She stood there for a moment in awe.  Never before had she felt this way about anything and she was certain this would be the defining moment in her life by which everything to come would be measured against.  Her senses drank in the details; the feel of cool glass sliding under her fingers, the delicious warmth of the summer sun dancing against her back, the ever present hum of the city fading to a whisper as the moment stretched beyond belief.  It was as though time itself paused to release a sigh of content before swiftly marching on.

A bag knocked against her shoulder sending her stumbling forward to mar the pristine glass with a finger-smeared rainbow.  She smiled upon noticing where the trail ended, seeing the treasure waiting to be collected by a fortunate stranger some day.  The smile lingered as she was enveloped once more by the crowd surging forward through the city, searching for the next moment, waiting beyond he bend.