The streets of Manhattan swarmed with life, as always. They were filled with men women, children. There were the well-dressed, taking the smallest glances at people as they made their way to their jobs or homes. There were the small children in their coats and gloves, tugged along by their overworked parents. 'College kids' walked in small groups, sipping coffee and tea from streaming mugs, decked out in t-shirts and iPods. It was a normal busy crowed on what was a normal day in New York.

But, unbeknownst to these rushing people, there was a man. Not quite a man, but at first glance, yes, definitely a man. And an almost normal looking man at that. He walked a bit slower than the rest, watching them with an amused eye. He had round glasses and a worn tweed coat over a rumpled white collared shirt. He straightened his already strait bowtie, ducking his head. He had a twitchy and intriguing aura, which maybe people would have noticed had they taken the time.

But no. No one looked at the lanky figure.

So, without a should noticing him, this 'man' made his way to Central Park. It had been years since he'd been year. He found it a somber yet welcoming place, ever since he's lost his companions.

Have you guessed who the man was?

So, this man sat on a bench, and simply watched the people sputter past him. The park was slightly less packed than the streets, as it was covered in a thin layer of ice.

The mans keen eye caught on someone. A young woman. She sat, like him, on a stone bench twenty feet away. They were the only ones not moving. The man wasn't sure why she sparked his interest. Perhaps it was her flushed cheeks, showing how cold she truly was; the way she ignored them. Maybe the way her hair caught the wind, blowing around her face like black silk. He must have noticed the familiarity in her round face and dark eyes. It is most probable that he saw her rebellious aura like a soft mist around her. He was, after all, a very intuitive man. Her attitude wasn't angry or protestive, but rebellious none the less. It was like dark chocolate- likeable yet a little bitter.

And it is still unknown to me exactly how this man chose his companions. I'm assuming it's because of aura.

So, for an inconclusive reason, this man decided to learn more of this girl. It may seem a bit forced, but this is how it happened.

That's another thing, all of what I'm telling you is true. It may seem a little outside the bleu box, as it were, but please keep an open mind.

And so the man got up when the girl did, and made sure to bump into her as they passed. He murmured an apology, and continued on his way, glancing down at the used train ticked in his hand.

Annabeth Ross, Age 19

It said at the top.