A few weeks ago she asked for a bottle of vitamins over the counter. I was so short, I couldn't see her (God knows why the drugstore had me working such a tall counter), so I threw it over. She caught it and said it was for a deficiency and she'd pay up front. She did.

Later that day she walked out of her apartment. I still couldn't see her--there was a tree blocking my view--but she was probably wearing light brown casual pants, a light brown blouse, a light brown turtleneck sweater over that. She was probably carrying a dark brown purse and wearing blue eyes.

Two months later she was crying. She was in a chair in a police station. She told them very little (at least, I couldn't hear her saying anything, I was wearing earplugs), but they guessed that she had been beaten and sexually assaulted (not necessarily in that order). Her medium blue dress was torn in front, a sharp straight vertical line up the front. Her face was bruised. One of her shoes was missing.

The next day she threw a package up to me. I couldn't see her, I was so tall (God knows why UPS has me working with my head above the low ceilings), so I just asked her where she wanted it sent. She said it wasn't for anyone in particular and I should just address it to whoever and she'd pay however much it cost. We did that. I can't tell if she ever left.

(Five years ago she had disappeared from her apartment in Queens. She was never seen or heard from again--least of all by me.)