It was Amanda Jenkins's seventeenth day in Paris.
As usual, she set off at six in the morning, carrying her brother's photo and searching every street and alley of Paris, asking around until after eleven at night.
To save money, she rented a room in a small hotel.
Returning to the hotel required passing through a narrow, long alley with several forks.
Because she was scared, she would run through the alley every night to get back.
That night, however, a man suddenly ran out from around the corner and bumped into her.
Caught off guard, she fell to the ground, sitting down hard.
The man nearly fell too but managed to steady himself by stepping back and leaning against the wall.
At the moment, she was in too much pain to get up from the ground immediately, rubbing her bruised arm and complaining, "That hurts like hell, why don't you watch where you're going!"
She looked up, and there was a dim street lamp right above the man's head.
