K is for Kindness
The woman was the first to see the child. It was no surprise; he was quite small, and alone, sitting on the far edge of the stoop. She bent down to his level. “Is your mother here?” she asked, already knowing the answer. A boy with a mother wouldn’t be alone in a city such as this.
He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the ground.
“Your father, then?”
Another shake of the head.
She looked closer at him; he had all the tell-tale signs of one who is of the streets, all hollowness and that not just from hunger. She looked at him closer still, and loved him. “Would you like to come with me, then?”
The boy looked up for the first time. His hollowed eyes brightened slightly, on their way to being filled.