I was just trying to look like I was doing something other than watching her. Yes, I noticed another woman. She wasn’t the classic beauty of magazin... covers, but in truth nobody is, and that isn’t a definition of beauty to which I subscribe. She was not very tall, standing about five feet, maybe even four foot eleven, and her figure was petite, though she was busty. She had a lovely and warm smile and her eyes simply pierced through me each time she looked in my direction. I could not look. I peaked under the hood, I was certain that the alternator had went out, or a belt had broken, but it was Christmas Eve and there were no part stores open. “Would you like to use my phone? You could call someone to come and get you,” I offered. The woman teared up and her chin began to tremble. “My husband is in Afghanistan. This is our baby's first Christmas, and he is going to miss it. My parents are home, but they are not in good health and can not see good enough to drive at night.” I. More

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