The child who shared his last sandwich

He couldn’t have been more than eleven years old.

Slim. Silent. Alert like a stray animal.

He was crouching behind an alley lined with restaurants, holding half a sandwich wrapped in a napkin.

He observed me for a long time.

Then he came closer and placed it in my hands.

“Here,” he said softly. “You need it more than I do.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Why are you helping me?”

He shrugged.

Caleb  replied simply.

“Because no one helped my mother when she needed it.”

My hands were trembling when I accepted the sandwich.

But before I could say anything else, something across the street caught my attention.

A luxurious black SUV had just parked.

Two men in dark suits came out.

They looked me straight in the eyes.

One of them pointed.

“It’s her.”