1) While Chevy and Vinci were fitting their new shoes at the store, a woman and her little boy sat some distance away. The salesperson who attended to them brought the little boy three shoes of his choice to fit. He liked all of them but his mother was not satisfied. As they walked off with no purchase I read the woman and saw that she had no intentions of buying her son any shoes after all. She just couldn't stand the sight of other people buying shoes for their children, something that she could not afford.
This is the kind of thing that makes me hate living in this country sometimes. Not for the corruption and the crimes and the devils' traffic and the discrimination and the self-righteousness of hypocrites, but for one of the biggest transgressions of all--making helpless people dream and dashing those same dreams to pieces.
2) And then, perhaps by association, I suddenly saw before me the little boy whose feet were cut off and whose face was bashed in. I was quite embarrassed at first. Was he offended that not only could he have no shoes but also that he was unable to wear them? Why did he come to me? Did I unconsciously invite him?
He said that he was murdered by drug addicts. I couldn't converse with him long, but my heart broke twice that afternoon: once for the mother who couldn't buy shoes for her son and the other for the boy who died.
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