A small voice cut through the rain and his spiraling thoughts.

“Mister, are you crying because you are hungry too”

Jonathan looked down, startled, and found himself staring into a pair of wide brown eyes set in a face smudged with dirt but undeniably gentle. The girl could not have been older than six or seven. Her hair was tied into uneven pigtails, and she wore a sweater several sizes too large, its sleeves nearly covering her hands. In one of those hands, she held a piece of bread wrapped carefully in a napkin, already torn in half.

“You should eat,” she said seriously, holding it out to him. “When your stomach hurts from being empty, it makes everything worse.”