Helping an Urchin
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“Hey kid,” I squinted through the darkened shop at a young boy with a frayed hoodie and dirt on his nose, “you’re in here every day, what’s your story?”
    “I… um… nothing Sir, I’m just looking.” he blushed and started picking at the threads on the hemline of his sweatshirt.
    “Don’t worry kid. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that you’re in here all the time, but you never buy anything. Ain’t you got any money?” I took a long drag off of my cigarette and exhaled the smoke up towards the ceiling.
    “Ah, no sir, I don’t.” he looked down again and turned to leave, “I’ll be going, you won’t be seein’ me again.”

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