A graceful auburn-haired angel climbed aboard the southbound commuter tram. Paul looked up, his closed briefcase on his lap. He caught a glimpse of her presence as her foot landed on the top step. Attraction immediately flushed over Paul. She was precisely the woman he pictured spending the rest of his life with.

The woman scanned available seats all around the cabin before she plopped down beside Paul. Now, she was in his clear vision, not just his imagination for a brief spell. Paul should have opened his daily newspaper, the edition he enjoyed the most. The lady pulled out her cell phone and Paul stole a peek at what she listened to.

Curious, he asked himself, "Did that say...?"

She pulled out Grapes of Wrath, one of Paul's favorite books. There he was, next to his ideal woman. Paul knew if he did not speak the intense moment would forever haunt him. And, she would go from Miss Right to That Woman on the Tram.

Was the coward just going to sit there in stunned silence?

Paul tried to decide various methods to begin the conversation with the beauty. All his jumbled mind would offer were reasons why he shouldn't. He decided if the lady remained on the tram three more stops he'd get the nerve to speak to her.

Those stops arrived. Nothing emitted from Paul's mouth except a million internal insults of his silence.

Once again, the tram stopped.

Paul composed himself and began "Steinbeck's book...".

DING!