I’m about thirteen years old and on my way home from school. I’ve just exited the train at my station and have a five-minute walk left to my family’s house. Then, a guy probably in his fifties comes up beside me and starts chatting me up. I am carrying my school backpack and am very clearly underage.
Man: “Hey there, honey! I almost didn’t recognize you; you’ve grown up so much! Look at what a fine young lady you’ve turned into.”
Me: “Um, do I know you?”
Man: “Ah, well, I guess you wouldn’t remember me. You were a toddler the last time I saw you. How about you come with me and we’ll get some coffee?”
Me: “I don’t know you, and I’m not going anywhere with strangers. Leave me alone.”
Man: “Don’t worry, I’m not a stranger. Your dad and I go way back!”
Me: “Really? That’s great! Where do you know him from? The military? Afghanistan? Actually, [Dad] is home today. I’m sure he’d be so excited to see you again!”
The guy turned white (impressive, considering his tan) when I took out my keys and turned to stand in front of a random doorway. Then he bolted, never to be seen again. I guess potentially meeting a veteran after chatting up his teen daughter was a bit too scary for that stranger after all.
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