I went to the corner store this morning. When I came out, there was a shabby-looking car parked next to me. It had rust and a luggage rack on top. I noticed a teenage girl, I guessed around 15 sitting inside. Out of the driver’s door popped a man who looked like a combination of John Malkovich, Jack Nicholson, and Hannibal Lecter. Creepy. The kind of guy that makes your skin crawl at 10 feet away. I looked at his small, beady eyes and shivered.
I got into my car and thought, “Is this girl in danger?” I assumed it was his daughter; but given the creepiness he exuded, I would guess he abuses her in one way or another. I thought to myself, “When he goes into the store, I will ask her if she needs help, and if she says yes, I will take her in my car and go to the police station.”
But the man got back into his car and they drove away.
I didn’t get the license plate. I didn’t even think of it until much later on.
Next time, I would hope I would have enough courage to ask someone if she needed help whether or not the creep was standing there. Or at least remember to get the license plate number, and call someone.