Sorry sari girl

Waiting to pull out the driveway, I see a young Indian girl walking slowly along the street, approaching my front garden.  She is remarkably willowy and has an intelligent face with delicate features.  She wears a sari of tangerine and chocolate as though she just stepped out of a 1970s cookery book.  She is walking slowly, reticently, aware of each step.  Her arms cross her stomach and her hands rest on her hips.  She is lost in troubled thoughts.  I have the urge to open the passenger door and invite her in.  “I’ll tell you mine”, I’ll say, “And you can tell me yours”.