Fountain Dance

The girl was two years old. She was hungry — there’d only been a few bites of food earlier that day. Her clothes were ragged but clean. She’d slept in her mother’s arms in a cardboard box under a bridge the previous night. Today, hundreds of tourists walked past without noticing the girl playing near the fountain in a shady plaza.

As the setting sun backlit glistening arcs of water, birds frolicked and splashed in the mild evening. Soft music played at a nearby restaurant, mingling with laughter and the hum of conversation. The tiny girl absorbed it all and danced with joy on the plaza tiles.

And there was no tip jar anywhere to be seen.

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