She stands at the bus stop in the dark, waiting.
Wet snow blows sideways down the Mountain View street. It’s a little after 6 a.m. In a few minutes, the first bus of the morning will roll through the neighborhood — her ride to the downtown hotel where she works five days a week. She’ll pay her fare and take a seat near the back, covering the bench with the piece of newspaper she keeps folded neatly in her coat pocket.
Her county is not like this, she says. There’s no snow like this in Sudan. Only the rivers are this cold.
But she couldn’t stay, so three years ago she found herself here, on the other side of the world, struggling to adjust to a place that feels like the opposite of home.
“What choice do I have?” she says.