She moves through life as an apparition. She is unseen leaving the hotel, walking down a crowded street, sitting on the train, moving through the market. She speaks a language that is not her own, in a culture that is hostile to her presence.
Bones ache and muscles throb. Her small body protests the physical work which she continues because there is no alternative. She climbs into her own bed, made with clean pressed sheets perfectly folded and tucked at each corner, a practice that’s become habit from her daily grind.
The world is tolerable under the warmth of the heavy blankets, in the dark, where she can disappear until the day breaks open to invisibility again.
She is a specter in plain view.