The blinking monitors mounted on the walls throughout the train station all said that the train was delayed.  She would be late arriving.  I looked around for a seat in the cavernous, outmoded lobby, but rejected them all.  I did not like crowds, not even thin ones.  I decided to wait outside, let the cool night air clear my head. 

            Over the past few days, I’d asked myself the same question over and over.  “What if …we don’t like each other…we don’t get along…she’s disappointed by my physical appearance…she’s a homicidal maniac?  Of course, my friends had encouraged that last one.  They figured that I’m such the quiet, naïve type that for me to agree to meet someone I’d met on the Internet was just plain crazy.  I mean, really, what could I possibly know about someone I’ve never seen before, some stranger that lived way up in Nowhere, New Hampshire, and just happened to be coming to New Orleans.