I was 14 years old, waiting for a plane at the Marthaâ€™s Vineyard airport with my friend Rachel. Itâ€™s a tiny building, and there were only two other people in the place--a man and a woman chatting together about 20 feet away from us. The woman looked familiar.
â€œI know that woman,â€ I said to Rachel.
She was slender, with good posture. My mom was a dancer, so I thought maybe it was a friend of herâ€™s that I couldnâ€™t quite place. She wore tapered black pants, a scarlet blouse, and big sunglasses. _Hmm, maybe sheâ€™s Read more