Her dark black hair was up in a sensible bun, baby hairs loose near the nape of her neck. A practical leather messenger bag was slung over her shoulder. She was facing away, so I couldn’t get the whole picture, but I figured she must have been at least in her mid-thirties.

Was the poor woman lost or something?

I heard her voice before I ever saw her face.

“Please?” she asked, desperation in her voice. “I just need to borrow your phone for two seconds to check on my friend. I swear I’m not going to run off with it or anything.” Light. Soft. Angelic.

She made my ex-wife...