By Clarissa Sebag-Montefiore
A man walks into a mall. His eyes scan the crowds. Finally, he spots what he’s looking for: a teenage girl. Maybe 12 or 13 years old. Alone.
“Wow, you’re really beautiful, you know,” he says.
If she ignores him, dismisses him, or accepts the compliment with grace and walks off, he knows she’s not his girl. But if she pauses, smiles shyly, fishes for more – “Oh really, you really think so? Me?” – he knows he has a victim.