When I was sixteen, I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl, also sixteen, at a...

When I was sixteen, I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl, also sixteen, at a bookstore in the shopping mall. I decided to approach her.

She had arrived with some family, but as they walked into the store, she stayed back, looking at the books near the entrance. I was waiting for my parents to finish buying something, probably a refrigerator, and it was taking them forever to choose. So I figured I had time.

I walked over and said the usual things I’d say to start a conversation. Normally it worked. But this time, she just looked up at me with soft, sweet eyes and giggled, like a six-year-old girl.

I blinked. She blinked back. I let the silence stretch for a moment, hoping it would draw her into speaking. She said nothing.

While we were still looking at each other, her father stormed over, very upset. He started yelling at me, “Don’t you know she only has the mind of a six-year-old?” Apparently, she had suffered a birth injury, lack of oxygen, and her brain had not developed properly. I had no way of knowing because she didn’t speak. For a moment I thought maybe she was deaf. She was looking at a book that was normal for our age.

The father was furious, almost looked like he might hit me. Then the mother came, upset too but trying to calm him down.

Once everyone had cooled off a little, I managed to say something that, in hindsight, I am still proud of: “I only came to say hello to her. Yes, because she’s beautiful. And you might want to prepare yourselves… because this is going to happen again. A lot of times.”

It was one of the oddest moments of my teenage years. A tragedy, really. That poor girl had the body of a woman, but the mind of a child. And no one around her was ready for what that meant.