Indian Teen Self Recording Her Body

I'm fairly anonymous. I look like all those other co-workers at your large corporation that you don't quite know either. When I smile and nod at you in the cafeteria, in the elevator or at the photo-copier, you will nod back and force a smile while you rack your brain trying to remember who I am. You're sure you've seen me before (even if you haven't), and if you ever bother to check up on who I am you will be told that my name is George. That will put you at ease.It shouldn't. If you ever see me you should start checking job advertisements. I'm called in when there is something fishy going on, or at least when someone suspects there is something fishy going on. Usually there is. Usually it is so bad that by the time my report hits the boardroom table, some of the people who would usually be sitting around said table in Armani suits will be donning orange jumpsuits in a Federal facility somewhere. Quite often bankruptcy and massive lay-offs follow. To protect my cover, I hang around. This..." he placed his hands on his chest, "is but a temporary gift, so that I may fulfill my promise to you. Here, allow me to help you. Take my hand, Christine."She took his hand without hesitation and he helped her into the boat. She sat and he took an oar and used it to push the boat away from the shore. He replaced the oar, maneuvered the small craft around and began to row to the opposite shore."Papa? When you said you are here to fulfill your promise, what did you mean?"The man sighed and sadly looked long into her eyes."Before I died, I promised to send the Angel of Music to you and I never did. I wanted to send the angel to you, but no such angel existed, until now." But, Papa..." Hush, Christine. Let me take you to my home and then I hope to answer all of your questions there."The two spoke no more, as the man swiftly rowed the small boat to the far side of the lake. The only sound the steady swish of water and creak of the wooden oars. Christine watched the man's back move.
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