Rain had just begun to fall when the dark SUV rolled to a stop outside a worn-down corner market.
Viktor Romano stepped out, planning to make a quick phone call before heading back to his office. The street was quiet except for the soft patter of rain hitting the pavement.
He had barely taken out his phone when a small voice called behind him.
“Sir… excuse me… would you buy my bike?”
Viktor turned.
Standing a few feet away was a little girl clutching a faded pink bicycle. The chain was rusty and one of the handles was wrapped with tape. Her clothes were thin, her shoes worn through at the soles, and raindrops clung to her dark hair.
She looked no older than seven.
Viktor frowned slightly.
“What are you doing out here alone?” he asked.
The girl pushed the bicycle toward him with both hands.
“Please,” she said quietly. “My mom hasn’t eaten in days. I can’t sell anything from the house, so I’m selling my bike.”
The words landed heavily.
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