She cruised along the highway, a yellow streak shining through the chilly wintry mist. As I waited at the curb for a cab, she soared, teasing my emotions. A mild breeze swept up in her wake, caressing my cheek as I gaped after her. I watched transfixed as she turned, and past me in one swift motion. I yearned to face her. I pined for her to halt so I could examine her. I craved to stroke her hood, to run my fingers along her curves, to sing her elegance.
Speeding up, the yellow beetle vanished out of sight. Pity.