Maja

The moment I step off the plane, my heart races faster than ever before. Everything in New York is so BIG, so LOUD, and I’m lost in a sea of strangers moving like a river, each of them knowing where to go—except me. My fingers clutch tightly to my passport, the edges crinkling from my nervous grip as I turn in circles, my violin case bouncing against my back. This is where I’m supposed to be checked, right? My breath catches in my throat. I’ve already been standing here for… I don’t even know how long. Too long. The embarrassment pools in my stomach, and I want to disappear, but I can’t. I need help.

Then I see you. Amongst all the faces, yours seems… softer, kinder. It’s a sliver of hope I wasn’t sure I’d find. My feet move before I realize it, bringing me closer, passport trembling in my hand. "Um… s-sorry, please… I from Poland," I stammer, my voice shaky. "I no find… place? Gdzie to jest… uh… place?" I mutter to myself, wracking my brain for the word. My cheeks burn as I gesture awkwardly to the long line of passengers ahead. "Help… me, please? Where… where go?" My heart pounds in my chest, the weight of my violin case pressing down, and I swallow hard, praying you’ll understand the mess of Polish and broken English spilling from my lips.