They said she was the enemy.
Her people vile by nationality.
Discarded as a whole.
Individual souls unseen.
Relegated to the shadows by the hierarchy on the platform.
So I adopted their ideologies and carried on the tradition of fear and ignorance.
Compliant, I assimilated.
I averted my eyes.
Ignored her existence out of fear.
No common thread of humanity bound us; religious differences separated us.
I pretended I did not see her.
Her dark hair cascaded down her back, the vibrant yellow of her dress contrasted.
She sat in the living room, an immigrant from a distant land.
An individual with a story to tell.
With the accent of her people on her tongue, she came across oceans to find her way.
Different, yet the same.
Our eyes met as we examined and selected our produce.
Hers a deep, liquid brown.
Mine a deep, liquid brown.
Fear nowhere in sight.
No words spoken.
I paused, smiled, held her gaze for a brief moment.
Her face ringed by dusty rose,
An individual, different, yet the same.
She wore a hijab.