PART 2
Not understanding the meaning behind her question, I ignored her initially and repeated myself. She didn't reply, or couldn't, is what it seemed. As if nothing we said registered, she kept asking if I was Arab.
At this point, I started to look around and assess the environment.
Why, you ask?
I saw a video where two men were driving down a dark road and spot a woman. She seems desperate and cries for help. While the driver is busy putting on his shiniest piece of armor to rescue the fair maiden yonder, his friend in the passenger seat tenses up and starts to protest against stopping. Three seconds later, their car is surrounded by a group of men, trying to open the doors and break the windows.
They manage to drive away.
I start swerving my head like an owl. Fortunately, my friend was doing the same. Not a single bloodthirsty dacoit in sight. Instant relief. Sadly, as much as we tried she wouldn't answer. Finally, I asked if she was okay. She said she was okay. Knowing we couldn't do anymore, we bid her goodnight and left.
Five minutes later, J.D. stops. "Maybe we should call the police. They could take care of her."
Thinking along similar lines, we began tracing our steps backwards, only to find her again. This time was different.
We realized what had just happened. She was crouching next to a support pole, breathing rapidly. Shaking visibly, as to calm herself down.
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