Disclaimer- I don't own Moulin Rouge, Sylvia Plath or Starbucks.

Christian James had never exactly been popular although he'd always had some friends, he was rather shy and slightly what the jocks had liked to call a nerd. He preferred writing and reading to football or television and he had never had a girlfriend. He wasn't bad looking and he showered regularly but he'd always been far too shy to ask a girl out. Today, he vowed, all of that was going to change. He had no idea the how hugely he was right.

On the first day of college Christian spent far more time than usual picking out his clothes and spent an extra minute or two in front of the mirror messing with his hair. He would later be thankful for it. It was a short ride on the subway from his East Village apartment to NYU but even so he had to try hard to keep his face blank and impassive as the train car shook as though it was broken. Looking around he saw the other passenger seems unfazed. Not entirely comforted he was now regretting leaving his car in California.

His heart was beating in his chest but he managed to get off the train alright and made it through the overheated subway station. The air here was barely breathable. Outside he took deep gasps of the slightly cooler city air. Crowds of people pushed past him, clutching Starbucks cups and brief cases and looking agitated. He already had noticed that everyone here moved their legs are far apart as possible when they walked.

He realized he had no idea where he was but also knew better than to take a map out. Feeling dizzy he turned into a building with gold trimmed revolving doors. There was a man at the desk but Christian ignored him and stood in the lobby behind a large potted plant to look at his map. He discovered he was only a few blocks away from his building. These were New York blocks, but all the same he wasn't nearly as lost as he had feared.

Five minutes later found him pushing through the crowd, being thrown looks when he instinctively apologized. He noticed at crosswalks New Yorkers stood as far out in the road as possible while they waited for the light to turn so they could get where they were going a half second faster. At last he arrived at the building without anything more exciting than an occasional wrong turn. Standing outside he smiled.

Although the building looked just as imposing and imperial as the others on the street, its concrete stairs were lined with unusual looking people. Girls in bright colors and converse, boys with long hair falling into their eyes, a group of people with dreadlocks, their genders indefinable. Christian could hear someone playing guitar inside as he looked up at the columns. Then, remembering what his sister had said about not looking up in New York, he hurried inside without another glance.

The halls were quite modern and clean, the walls hung with impressive paintings and murals. Christian's father had said that it was a slum for people who failed high school, that Christian was wasting his talent to go there but Christian knew the old man was wrong.

Christian's father was head of a rich and successful corporation and all in all this had caused Christian to live a pretty sheltered life. He had his own car, a big house, any material thing he had ever wanted. But at the same time, his mother was dead and his father didn't understand him. He wanted Christian to be a business man like himself, not a starving writer.

He had refused to pay for Christian's college tuition to his first choice college, RISDI; though luckily NYU had offered him a large scholarship and the rest could be paid in student loans, leaving Christian enough money to survive if he ate only Ramen. His father had paid for his plane ticket and lent him money for his rent, small price to rid himself of his failure of a son. Christian winced as the jarring voice of his father filled his head. He pushed it aside, nothing was going to ruin this day.

His first class was Art History. Christian had always been interested in art. His older sister was an artist and museums had a homey feel to Christian and he had longed to know more. In high school however his father had insisted he take extra Algebra and Physics. He found he know almost nothing about art, but he followed the professor and vowed to read his text book cover to cover when he got a chance,

After class he ventured down the street in search of a diner or a cheap café to eat his lunch. Less than a block away he came upon a Starbucks but seeing the line decided against it. A little further down was a deli with a dirty window. Feeling uncertain, Christian headed inside. The tables wear nearly all empty. Christian registered this as odd, since he had yet to find so much as a public bathroom that wasn't crammed with people.

He wondered briefly if he should continue down the street but his growling stomach objected. He ordered and headed to a corner table to take out his laptop. As he ate he looked around for inspiration. There were only three other people here, an old man with food stuck to his beard who reading the paper and two middle aged women, gossiping and laden with shopping bags. He immediately recognized them as tourists; they were wearing fanny packs and cameras.

It was a typical day in New York City and I was still waiting for something to happen.

Christian wrinkled his nose and pressed the delete button. He jumped as the door was flung open and the sound of the street filled the quiet room. Looking up his heart seemed to beat through the fabric of his shirt. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen had just walked in, pulling a small girl behind her. Christian starred at her, taking in her milk white skin, fine bones and vivid hair. He'd never seen hair like that before, liquid fire cascading out of it's bun down her back in a mass of curls. She was whispering something to the man behind the counter, who shook his head and looked agitated. He heard her speaking softly to the little girl. Her voice was deeper than he expected and musical.

"I'm sorry; we're going to have to go somewhere else."

The little girl's eyes filled with tears.

"But Teeny, I'm hungry," she held her stomach. "I want food. I want a bagel."

"I know, Lucy, so am I. C'mon we'll go somewhere else to get one. Someday when we're rich we'll buy the whole bloody bagel shop."

Lucy smiled slightly and Teeny wiped her tears. Christian watched them go, Teeny's hair flowing behind her, his heart unusually heavy. When he tried to take a bite out his sandwich, he found he was no longer hungry. He hastily stowed his laptop in his backpack and ran into the street.

Inside he had momentarily forgotten to appalling amounts of people that flooded the streets during the day. He thought he saw a glimpse of red in the distance and took off after is. It turned out to be a traffic light. Again he saw something and sped around the corner, but it was someone's shopping bag. It was ten minutes before he realized he didn't know the streets and had no idea where he was. Feeling dizzy he wandered down a relatively deserted residential street. He ignored the no loitering signs and took a seat on the steps of a brick building covered in ivy. Then he saw her again, red hair bobbing above the crowd. Lucy was crying and Teeny was trying to comfort her. She was waiting at the cross walk only a hundred feet away. Getting up awkwardly he headed towards her, reaching out to touch her arm. She jumped and backed away, looking at him with big blue eyes, like a deer in the headlights.

"Err..." He felt dizzy under her intense cerulean stare. He held out his wrapped sandwich. "This is for you." Teeny blinked; surprised a confused but it took her only a second to get a grip.

"We don't need your charity! Go help someone else, go..." but Lucy had already taken the bag and was gobbling the sandwich. Teeny looked alarmed and speechless.

"Don't accept food from strangers," she said, her voice rising. Suddenly her pale cheeks were filled with color. Christian had a feeling his were the same. Lucy tugged on his pant leg.

"Tan tu" she said with her mouth full. Christian laughed and Teeny looked torn.

"So..." Christian fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt. "I wish we weren't strangers." Several people were looking at them with annoyance as they blocked the crosswalk. They headed down the residential street together. Teeny turned an awful shade of fuchsia and Christian thought he was in love.

"I have to go to work…" she said finally.

"Some other time maybe?"

"Maybe"

"But how will I find you?" he frantically called after her retreating back. If he could have seen her face, he'd have seen she was smiling.