the curious incident of the single grey hair

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A woman was sitting on the bus. Her long, shiny locks were a deep raven black. Yet, look! What is that? A lone grey hair, shimmering and sparkling like a diamond, is fighting its way out of the darkness, not wanting to be swallowed by the blackest black. I feel a desperate need to reach out and pull it. My fingers are itching to get at it. What harm can it do? She may even be thankful; I suspect she doesn't even know it exists. I practically have to sit on my hands to stop them developing a mind of their own. But I continue to gaze longingly at the single grey hair as if my life won't be complete until I pull it from her head. The desire is all-consuming. Oopsy. I nearly missed my stop. Am I alone in finding myself have sudden, bizarre, impulses?