On a trip to Al Ain, as we cuddled ourselves in the tiny seats, the small public bus had to offer us (me and mom). I put my earphones on and rested my head on her cushy shoulder. We were waiting for the driver to collect our tickets and hit the road, as the other passengers climb into the ride that was to take us to our destination. Among the passengers stepping into the bus, a peculiar-looking man managed to catch my eye, funnily as much as his eye caught me. He did not look well dressed; his clothes looked like he couldn't afford much. His hair was unkempt, and his eyes looked worn out and wrinkled. He looked like he must have had to put in a lot of effort to pull his living in together. As he walked in, he smiled at me and picked a seat diagonally right behind mine. Our conditioned minds that are taught to be skeptical of men, especially of strangers, had me catch glimpses of him cautiously from the corner of my eye. I could tell he was staring at me fearless of being caught d