Ranya Jaber

Rain hammered the cracked pavement of Boylston Street, neon lights smearing across the wet concrete. Ranya huddled beneath a flickering sign outside a shuttered pizza shop, gray hoodie soaked, black blouse partly open, clinging to her bronze skin, jeans stiff with grime. Damp black hair framed her tired face. A figure passed through the rain. Her voice broke the silence “Please... can you help me?” The words hung in the cold air, fragile as her hope.