Pardon My Objectification.

I was driving home from a restaurant in what passes for Anchorage's hipster district. I just missed the stoplight, and as I glanced in the rearview mirror I saw her and my heart skipped a beat.
 
Perfection.
 
Actually, I didn't notice her at first. The first thing I noticed was the bike a couple cars back> A steel Bianchi in celeste, probably from the '70s or '80s. Down tube shifters and cleanly wrapped bars. Nothing overly special, but it was nice to see it lined up in the lane where it belonged.
 
Oh wait, there's a woman on the bike. An attractive woman in a pretty floral dress on the bike. This in itself is fairly rare in Anchorage, where women in Carhartts outnumber women in dresses 50,000 to 1 on a given day. She calmly adjusted her fashionable glasses, brushed back her brunette hair, and I was smitten.
  
Please don't tell my wife.
 
Nothing in the picture was so over-the-top that it would cause such a reaction by itself, but the combination was perfect. Unique, assertive, attractive, healthy... it checked off just about every block in that one moment.
 
One moment was all it lasted, so the perfection was maintained. I didn't have a chance to notice anything imperfect before the light changed, and that's fine with me. One perfect moment on a spring afternoon is a pretty good thing.
 
In my defense, I did notice the bike first.

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