A girl, 21 years of age, waits by the edge of the sidewalk for the bus back to her campus dorm. She just attended a literary event, a poetry reading by students from her university.

She thinks about making the trek back to her dorm on foot, but it's dark outside at nine p.m. and the walk takes 20 minutes at minimum. She doesn't want to risk danger walking through city streets late at night so she decides riding the bus is the better option.

She's alone on the sidewalk. Google says the bus comes in 10 minutes, so she watches a video on her phone to pass the time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a man approaching from her right. She expects him to pass by, but his feet stop in front of her. She assumes he must be waiting for the bus as well.

He begins speaking, and at first she doesn't pay attention because she's tired and thinking about curling in a ball underneath the warm covers on her bed. But he doesn't stop, so she puts the video on pause and looks up at him.

It's hard for her to understand what he's saying. He talks quietly and his words are a jumbled mix in his mouth, but his stare causes her neck hairs to spring up from their resting place on her skin. A chill, a tremor, rush through her spine, and she's unsure why she feels uneasy.

A moment later, she's able to decipher what he's saying. He says something about her appearance, about being pretty. "You look just like my ex," he says.

She's silent.

"Really. You look just like her. She was a Native-white mix," he continues.

"Oh." She doesn't understand why he felt the need to start this conversation.

He tells her he's 36 and mumbles something about his past relationship before he asks, "You have somewhere you need to be?"

"Yeah, I do." She doesn't.

"You in school? College?"

She tells him the name of her university before she realizes she should have lied.

"What do you study?"

"History and English."

"That's good. Staying in school is good." He casually lifts the case of beer and the plastic bag he carries in his hands. "I have some alcohol and weed if you'd like some. You can come with me, if you want."

She's silent with fear as she tries not to tremble. She wishes the bus would come now.

"You don't have to, but you can." He verbally pushes her to join him but she tells him no thanks.

He continues staring at her. He asks her again, "You have somewhere you need to be?"

"Yeah. I have a lot of homework and studying to do." She begins thinking about what he might do if she doesn't agree to join him. She suddenly fears an image of losing her virginity non-consensually in a dark alley behind an unknown street if the bus doesn't come fast enough. She then fears him following her onto the bus if he doesn't leave by the time it comes.

Immediately, she feels bad for having fearful assumptions like these, but these are the thoughts that cross her mind when she is approached by unknown men as she's been conditioned to believe that, even though one should seek out the best in people. She must always be cautious and on guard with pepper spray as her life support.

He spews out something of an apology and she feels the need to say "It's okay" so she does without knowing why she feels the need to put a stranger at ease, even though she was uncomfortable, after rejecting his offer. She's not okay with the situation at all.

She strains a smile in an attempt to be nice. She doesn't know why she feels the need to be nice either. She just wants him to leave.

"What's your name?" he asks.

She tells him before she realizes she should have created a fake name. He tells her his and reaches his hand toward her in the gesture of a handshake. She complies in order to be nice. He tells her it was nice to meet her, so she replies with the same phrase. It's common courtesy.

"See you around," he says before walking away to her left. She glances back to see he's ended his sidewalk stroll a few feet from her. He looks like he's waiting, but she doesn't know what he's doing.

The bus arrives a couple minutes later and a flood of relief rushes through her. She glances back one more time before she steps on the bus. He's gone.

She thinks possibly his intentions weren't as bad as she initially suspected because she wants to find the good in him, but she can't read minds. She'll never know. She figures that next time instead of waiting for the bus, calling an Uber would do.