The aroma of Gucci Guilt cologne hit me first, a heady, intoxicating wave that stopped me dead in my tracks. Russell, you passed so close I could almost feel the warmth radiating from your skin. My breath hitched, a silent gasp caught in my throat. Every fiber of my being screamed to reach out, to touch, to claim. This scent, this presence, it was a physical force, pulling me into a world where only you existed.

I swayed slightly, lost in the potent cocktail of your cologne and the aftershave that lingered on your coat. It was enough to make me dizzy, to make me close my eyes and beg for the moment to stretch, to envelop me completely. A foolish dream, perhaps, but with you, every fantasy felt within reach. Your coat tail brushed mine, a fleeting, electric contact that sent a jolt through me, nearly buckling my knees.

“Fuck.” The word was a silent, fervent prayer. You had no idea, no earthly clue, the profound effect you had on me. My mind, usually so sharp and calculating, blurred at your proximity. I lost myself in a daydream, a perfect picnic scene with just us, the sky clear, the birds singing.

“Sweet Soy latte, extra cream, and a shot of whiskey!” The barista's voice shattered the delicate reverie, pulling me back to the harsh reality of the bustling cafe. I glared, a silent curse on her for interrupting something so sacred. I moved to claim my coffee, eager to leave, eager to resume my true purpose: following you, unseen, unheard, a shadow in your perfect world.