He tip toed across the room, gathering his things and pulling them on as he went. Silently, vigilantly. They had closed the door on their way in, in order not to wake her roommates with their moans. Grasping the doorknob tightly, as if pressure would make it stop from groaning, he turned it slowly, looking back at her to ensure she was still sound asleep. Beautiful, he thought, as he gazed at her dark, fully eye lashes perching carefully on her high, prominent cheek bones. She was perfection and he was nothing but a man who was lucky enough to stumble across her. Her laugh still rung between his ears; He couldn’t wait to hear it again. The knob stopped suddenly and he slowly creaked open the door. With one last look over his shoulder, first checking on her, followed by the note he had left on the desk, he slipped through and shut the door behind him. 
It was 5 am and couldn’t have been more than 29 degrees; Cold enough that even the birds didn’t feel like getting out of bed. Walking down the street, with last nights clothes and his gloved hands in his pockets, he smiled to himself as he thought of her. They had just met, but he couldn’t help but feel they would be more than just a one-night stand. It had been incredible, but what was most prominent in his memory was laying with her after, her caressing his cheek and looking lustfully into his eyes. Her eyes; So full of wonder, of knowledge, of lust. Sirens broke the utter silence, as he shivered at the thought and grasped her phone number tightly in his pocket. 
He hadn’t been entirely present, with his head up in the clouds for the majority of the day. Customers who asked where to find Chomsky had been sent to Cabot, horror to history, and fiction to fantasy. All he could think about was her. As he was restocking magazines, however, the voice of a local newscaster caught his attention. There had been a sexual assault on the 59th block W and local police were asking for the help of the public to find the assailant, who had fled the scene between 4 and 7 am this morning. He shook his head, disgusted at what society had become. The shot transitioned from the news room to one panning an older, but quaint, known university area, which took him aback; Hadn’t he just walked down that road this morning? The shot centred itself around the face of a young, twenty-some girl, that told the story of her roommate, who had woken up alone and violated early that morning. The girl blamed herself, she said. We knew she had come home with someone, but hadn’t thought anything of it. The shot found its way back to the news room, where the news presenter spoke of the girl, who had a history of mental illness, including bipolar and multiple personality disorder, and how hurt friends and family were that someone would take advantage of someone as caring and passionate as she. She had come to town to pursue a career in law. Suddenly, a sketch appeared on the screen. Although the nose was slightly larger, the mouther wider and forehead smaller, it was unmistakably him. He looked around to see if anyone had seen what he had, but the only other person in view of the TV was an older man who had been working on a crossword for the past three hours. Taking the number he had held so dear out of his pocket, he opened and gazed at it one more time before throwing it in the nearest trash can.