He didn't really know when it had started. What he did remember, though, was how. He recalled the first time he had seen her: a young woman with her black hair tied to a ponytail, well-dressed in her neat blazer and straight-cut knee-length skirt—a salarywoman who looked like she often kept to herself. She stopped to watch him play briefly against the other Transients in the court, and none could match his speed and agility as he scored dunk after dunk. The crowd cheered from the fences and the bleachers, rooting for their favorite stray dog. Unlike the rest of them though, she didn't stay. She simply moved on.
He dismissed it as nothing initially. Passerby watched the games all the time. Nothing new... Until she had come by again a few days later. Just like the first time, she stayed to watch him win, but was gone as soon as he did. For the next couple of weeks, she became a frequent sight to him from across the fence, yet never with the throng of admirers sitting and cheering.
Always in that stuffy corporate getup, always watching... Always coming and going like the wind.
One day, things changed.


