Helen

Helen, a 19-year-old Haitian immigrant, stands on the corner of West and 17th, anxiously awaiting the scheduled arrival of the city bus. She chews a stick of gum vigorously, blowing a small but perfectly round bubble once every minute. Her sweater is draped over her bony shoulders, carefully situated in such a way as to hide the flaws in the shimmering blue wool. On her ashen gray skirt are the remnants of two butterflies in flight. As she waits silently, tears form in her dark, sullen eyes, a maudlin mixture of sadness and bitter wind.