The Boy

They sit in the straw basket on the filthy pavement.
Staring, staring.
The young boy meets my eye, unwavering.
Avert my eyes, I cannot.
I stop, turn.
I feel my feet walking towards this boy, as if under a spell.
His eyes do not leave me.
They are intent, curious, strong, detached from his body.
His skin sticks, glued to his skeletal frame, his stomach shows off his hunger.
How dismal, pathetic, I think.
I reach absently for my purse and a gold coin is withdrawn.
He sees the coin glint in the sunlight and his eyes are desirous, greedy, eager.
I feel the cold, hard coin against my skin.
Strange, I think, how this round, stiff, piece of metal could bring this boy such happiness.

The coin falls heavily from my fingertips.
He catches it in his outstretched hand.
What appears to be a smile creeps up upon his lips.
As he looks up at me his smile deepens, a gleam of hope flashes in his eyes.
I turn my head, and continue walking.