It was obvious that once, the room had been quite pretty. Now, though, the peeling paint, chipped furniture, and cracked window spoke of the room’s history. This room was a metaphor of the occupant’s life since coming to this country.
She had come with so much hope. How had things come to this?
how could she know
that his threats against her family
were nothing more than the wind
that howled just beyond her door?
Another response to Bjorn’s haibun prompt, where he has asked us to write about cities…and has encouraged us to write about the darker aspects of the city. Human trafficking is, perhaps, one of the darkest aspects of any city.