She is tall, super thin, but beautiful. Her skin is the color of creamy mocha coffee. She wears her black hair short and glossy. Her glasses are modern and big for her fine features. The left lens is cracked from a fight. She refuses to get it replaced. She has on skinny jeans and a tight t-shirt. She walks slowly in her high top tennis shoes. She is not in a hurry to go anywhere.
But when she speaks, she is thoughtful, witty and sharp. She listens to everything I say, taking it in and turning it over in her mind. She responds confidently to my questions. She does not hide any piece of herself.
She believes in the rapture.
She is in a gang. They are her family.
She could do anything she wants with her life. She could go to college. She would excel in law school. She would be a wonderful, wise mother.
When she walks into the room, I pray for her. Open your eyes, I say. When she leaves, I pray again. Don’t go, I say.
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