The Child Who Asks
It was drizzling that day, and I was nearing home with a pocket full of sunshine; Then he came – he knocked on the window of my car – and like a thief without warning, he came to rob me of my coins – he was merely a child, 5 or 6 or 7 years of age.
We stared at each other for what seemed an eternity – Would I be hard-hearted person and refuse him coins? Or should I be a child of God and lend him my extra change? Was he part of a syndicate organized by a crime lord? Or was he just a plain child begging for help?
I took his photo, and gave him coins. Am I to blame? I don’t know. I guess I never will.