it was a young girl. she was a wearing a red tank. couldn’t see her from the waste down because she was on the other side of a waste high, unfinished cement wall. she was standing on the dirt street in the hot sun. i was on my computer with the fan on medium.
i had been down this path a million times prior. at least a couple hundred. i knew she had food. i knew about what it would be. she would call them quesadillas even though you and me would know them as taquitos. beads of sweat had taken over her pre-adolecent face.
she asked for a very small sum of money. i handed her twice that much. i could see it in her eyes that she was happy and loving. i could tell by her garments that she was doing her very best. for a brief two minutes, i felt that she and i meant the world to each other.