As I waited for my order, I noticed a woman and a little girl entering the restaurant. The girl couldn’t have been more than six or seven, her hair tied back into two messy braids. She clutched her mother’s hand tightly, her eyes lighting up as she scanned the bright, colorful menu.
The little girl whispered, almost too softly to hear, “Can we eat here, please?”
The mother hesitated. She looked around nervously, her worn clothes and tired eyes betraying the weight she carried. After a moment, she nodded, pulling out a small, crumpled wad of cash from her pocket. She approached the counter and ordered one hamburger. Just one.
They sat at the table next to mine. The girl’s excitement was palpable as her mother unwrapped the hamburger and split it in half, handing the larger piece to her daughter.
The mom then reached into her bag and pulled out a small thermos, pouring what looked like tea into a plastic cup she had brought from home
