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Several years later, while I was doing some shopping at our local mall, I noticed a man seated on one of the benches staring at me as I browsed through the discount bin in front of the bookstore. He alternated between looking at me and focusing on his smart phone; he seemed to be searching for something.I'm not a beauty. Average, really. And, being in my middle forties, my body had begun to show the effects of gravity. I didn't generally attract much attention. So to have this man, who seemed average himself, covertly studying my face and figure, made me curious. And a little frightened.All at once his demeanor changed. He sat back, nodded his head, and tapped the screen of his smart phone.I went into the store to pay for the books I'd found and in the process almost forgot about him. When I came out I did notice he was no longer sitting on the bench.About half an hour later, as I sat in the food court eating my lunch, he approached my table with his smart phone in one hand and a cup. Blah blah blah... boring as only sports could be, but he had learned to pick up sports trivia in self-defense. Makes for innocuous conversation starters, at any rate.He checked his watch. A minute or two till the cabin door closes, and the cabin was only two-thirds full. Maybe he'd end up sitting alone after all--but no such luck. A young woman came dashing in, bag in hand, right after the flight attendant returned with his drink. Young girl, he amended a few seconds later; up close, she didn't look a day over fourteen. As she sat down--with an ease and gracefulness notable despite her age--and took a sheaf of papers out of her bag, Darren noticed that they were covered with Cyrillic characters. Now, that was odd; he had pegged her as your average American girl-next-door. Not too many of those could read or speak Russian, let alone a fourteen-year-old.Mentally filing away the curiosity, he folded up the paper, took a sip of his drink, and tried to relax as the plane taxied toward the.
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