She picked a small piece of trash from the dirt where she squatted on the side of a busy road. Beeping car horns, stray dogs and a hoard of people zig zagging across the lanes of traffic. She was silent, almost listless as her fingers moved along the ground. It was the same as before. Always the same.
Her mother was a short ways off, keeping one eye on her while she tried to sell firewood she had gathered that morning, the other eye desperate for a customer. Perhaps today she would make enough to buy them a real meal. The meager food they survived on was barely enough, and they both felt the depth of their plight.