"spare change?" the voice was tentative, slow with a thick accent which wasn't entirely foreign-her pleas fell on deaf ears as each individual slipped on their impassive masks , blocking out the less attractive side of man- the cars roared past belching their fumes into her private chambers, houses leered down at her, their naked windows glinting, ever reflecting never absorbing.
They looked at her with closed eyes, baring their teeth with every word, arbitrating at her emaciated essence. Some pitied, others bowed their heads and accelerated, laughter died on the lips, for one glance at her, none could hide from the shaming disgust which emanated from her every pore. She was a slur, an anomaly on the cracked surface.
One will observe nothing, and though she was void of something, none saw her. So slowly day by monotonous day, through the meager clattering of inadequate coins she started to fade.

until one fateful day a boy walked past. He heard the pathetic whisper, yet he didn't rush past, or look then turn away, neither did his person throw embarrassed coins in front of the woman; the child stopped. Furrowing his brows, he heard it again, "spare change, sir?" the young heart jumped and redoubled its pace; confused he wondered what was happening. His ears, though no different from the multitude, didn't hear what the rest of the herd thought they perceived in the womans sentence-the deception, the trickery, swindling ones emotions in order to part with their precious coins to satisfy her own sordid needs- the little boy, his hands tucked in his jersey, a cap tilted to the side, twitched the gray gossamer curtains of inequity and gasping registered the pain, the humiliation and the need for humanity- back pedalling he turned- his puzzled eyes sought out and alighted upon a hunched form- a shawl was pitched across her sharp shoulders, the soles of her shoes were bitter with holes- the little boy walked over to the crouching form. The shadows hid the wretched womans features, but the boy was beyond noticing- he bent down on to the same level as the figure. He held out a soft pale hand, and disregarding the grime and filth, he gently placed his palm over onto the others, silent tears forming and glistening, leaving behind a trail of haunted pain and cruelty. the woman looked into the youths blazing eyes, this one boy, devoid of identity, crossing her path, had recognized her plight- through the murky depths, the patent layers, and the foggy mist- he understood-and cried; for the woman and the millions like her- and in this one random moment; there was a connection.
the rampant shame which coursed through the her blood burnt down in the throat and she raised her ravaged face, "more change needed sir?"