When she boarded the bus this morning, my eyes widened. Here was a girl, alone, - ten, maybe eleven years old - exuding an air of supreme confidence. Her back straight, her long hair loose, her stride elegant, she made her way to the exit doors and piroutted neatly, coming to a stop with one gloved hand holding the guide pole. She swayed gracefully with the motion of the bus, looking expectantly out the windows.
I wanted to carve the words in fire in the space above her head, visible to everyone, that they might protect her against the bastards that will try to grind her down.