Polio

While loading groceries into my car I hear a tiny voice behind me. There is a teenage beggar girl sitting on the ground asking for alms. I take pity on her and hand her a couple of banknotes. But at the same time I have to think about “my” children at the orphanage. They probably need it more than she does. She says her “obrigada”. Then she lifts herself up on her arms and crawls away. “That’s polio”, says Bernardo and I feel really bad.