A dusty summer afternoon, in the bustle of the city, there stood a girl on the side of the street holding a bunch of roses. "Would you want to buy one for your girlfriend Sir?" she wanted to know.
The Sir threw his hand out in exasperation and yelled back at her, asking her to leave them alone. The girlfriend was indifferent, she pulled her sunshades down and pursed her lips together. It was hot, and The Sir was making her walk this crowded street for a bloody burger.
They passed the insignificant girl, small and bright eyed. She probably wasn't older than seven, had her hair up in a ponytail, browned by the days in the sun, rough and ruly from the nights of hunger. She put on a smile and her best innocent face, and walked up to a different pedestrian. With this one, she had no response. She got a sharp shove aside.
Her balance lost, she teetered over the side of the pavement and dangled dangerously close to the traffic. She lost her footing and landed face down onto the ground. Though she was not alone, she was too insignificant to be noticed by the crowd around her.She rolled to her side, to catch a moment's breath before checking on her wound.
Further ahead a scene had erupted. It was the girlfriend and The Sir, something had happened. She was aware of sticky liquid that was sliding down the side of her face, but she couldn't move. From the ground, she was able to see better, as several feet ran towards the scene. Something had happened.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she stands up and walks still not in balance, to the crowd. She pries her way through the crowd, to investigate. It was The Sir, he had white foam all over his mouth. The girlfriend looked on helplessly, tears rolling down her eyes. Her make up had smudged, her snootiness gone. She stood alone, shivering in fear.
The Sir did not move. And he did not open his eyes. Not even when the Ambulance came, many minutes later. Somebody in the crowd said he'd passed away. Epillepi or was it Epilepsy. The girlfriend stood giving statements of what had happened, she was juggling phone calls across two phones. The girl had by then forgotten her wound, and stepped forward towards the woman.
She picked out a rose from her bunch, slightly crushed. Walking with a slight lilt, she wipes her hand clean on her skirt, and extends the rose to the girlfriend, who's surprised. She looks like she would take offense at the gesture, so the girl quickly adds, "Sir wanted you to have it".
With that the child turns around, and walks to the unknown world of danger and despicable treatment. When they give us so much, with so little. What's stopping you from giving a little more?