I spotted her late one night while heading home.
I was in my car, stopped at the red light when she caught my eye. The light turned green and I needed to move, but she did not leave my thoughts.
The next time I was on my bike I sought her out. Would she still be there? Or would this image remain trapped only in my memory?
Yes, she was still here.
For some reason, this tiny piece of art intrigues me. This little girl in her wrinkled summer shorts and bare feet.
Who had put her here? And why? Who was she?
I get off my bike and go up close. Is this some child star I don’t recognize? Possible, but I don’t think so.
She is smiling, but I feel sad and haunted by this image. This is a lonely place to have left her.
I reach out and touch the surface where it is starting to peel away from the column. I don’t think she will be here much longer.
This little girl under the train.