"Ma'am, your purse!"
"Why thank you, young man. Such gallantry. I suppose you deserve a reward."
"That's really not necessary."
"Oh, but I insist. Here, take my card. You can receive your reward at this address later this evening."
"But. . ."
"No. Shush, child. I promise you a night to remember, and just to pique your interests, here's a few hints of what lies in store: a private string quartet, a yacht in international waters, bumper cars, cheese sticks and jamocha milkshakes, genetically engineered livestock bred for organ harvesting, pruning shears, nursery rhymes, instant playback digital video, recently unearthed/anciently cursed Sumerian manuscripts, co-dependency issues, nagging, vinyl blindfolds, nickel-plated restraints, hollow apologies, a lengthy appeals process, a transparent subterfuge designed to bewilder and discredit the INS, more cheese sticks, and, finally, a byline in next week's paper reading,'Man found strangled to death by own belt'."
I stood speechlessly as she winked and disappeared around the next corner.
My mind was swimming in all the possibilities, and whilst cancelling my other plans for the next few days, I learned that, no matter how certain and unfortunate the outcome, I am inescapably transfixed by how the pages will be turned. Wish me luck!