5 "Busy place," he says.
6 She looks up at him Is she blushing? and an odd grimace crosses her mouth and vanishes. She moves away from him and joins the crowds in the terminal.
7 The man is at the counter with his magazine, but when he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet the pocket is empty. Where could I have lost it? He thinks. His mind begins enumerating the credit cards, the currency, the membership and identification cards; his stomach churns with something very like fear. The girl who was so near to me, he thinks and all at once he understands that she has picked his pocket. 8 What is he to do? He still has his ticket, safely tucked inside his coat he reaches into the jacket to feel the envelope, to make sure. He can take the flight, call someone to pick him up at his destination since he cannot even afford bus fare conduct his business and fly home. But in the meantime he will have to do something about the lost credit cards call home, have his wife get the numbers out of the top desk drawer, phone the card companies so difficult a process, the whole thing suffocating. What shall he do?
9 First: Find a policeman, tell what has happened, describe the young woman; damn her, he thinks, for seeming to be attentive to him, to let herself stand so close to him, to blush prettily when he spoke and all the time she wanted only to steal from him. And her blush was not shyness but the anxiety of being caught; that was most disturbing of all. Damned deceitful creatures. He will spare the policeman the details just tell what she has done, what is in the wallet. He grits his teeth. He will probably never see his wallet again.