The other waiting passengers, the number of which ebbed and mounted with each departing bus, sat watching the station's TV screen. Since I had been travelling for almost 24-hours without much sleep, reading was the only thing keeping me awake. Thankfully, I was at a good part -- I couldn't even hear the vendors, the song of melodramatic acting, the screaming ticket salesmen, or...

Tap.

I felt a light touch on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw an older mestizo man wearing glasses, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. Bushy, graying eyebrows shaded his dark eyes. He appeared harmless, almost kind, but as a woman travelling alone, I immediately suspected his motives. Did he just want to touch me? Would he try to touch me again?

Noticing his every movement, I watched him place his hand on the back of my seat and, with arthritic slowness, bend towards the ground. I warily returned to my book.

Tap tap.

I looked at him again. In his sun-worn hand, he held a shiny coin. "Is this yours?" he asked me.

Whew! I thought. He was just picking up the coin. No, I shook my head and smiled with relief. The man stood up and started shuffling away. Feeling badly for suspecting him of sexual indecency, I said cheerfully, "It's yours now".

Stopping, he said, "I'm sorry?"

"It's yours now", I repeated.

A faint smile hovering at the corner of his lips, he nodded at me and left the station.

Twenty minutes later I got thirsty which is when I realized my daypack was gone.