I can’t remember the last time I met someone highly gifted in person. But this is what I imagine it’d look like.

There was nothing off about him. Except his behavior. In a sea full of seats, he chose the second row. Close enough to listen, too far away to be noticed.

Grey jeans, checkered shirt, with an almost adamant aura of attention. I could tell he was soaking up every word of the panelists like a sponge. He wasn’t on his phone. Or wearing headphones. He just listened.

On three occasions during the 45 minute discussion, he pulled out a note pad. Nothing fancy. The same kind a waiter would carry. He jotted down a single line each time. And a question mark. I could tell by the swivel of his hand.

I was expecting his hand to shoot up the second they opened for Q&A. But it didn’t. He waited. Only after five other questions, he slowly raised his hand. I neither understood the content of his question nor where he was targeting it.

The speakers did, for one smiled, two had an “I don’t know”-look on their face and one was concerned. They responded with a few areas they’d continue to work on and talked about issues to solve.

I think he found what he was looking for. A new problem to chew on. Not that you could’ve told by his reaction. No notepad needed this time. He politely thanked the panel. Then he got up and left.

As silently as he’d entered, he was gone.