The tiny body was visible through the empty glass counter that held an antiquated cash register. Walking up to the edge of the counter, Sous Chef Moira Clarke looked around the rest of her tiny shop to see if there were any other guests before turning back to the tiny little girl child that stood before her.
The child looked as though she hadn’t bathed in weeks. Clutching a package of flat crackers, she looked up at Moira with big, brown eyes that seemed full of terror and longing. Something changed in her eyes as the longing seemed to overtake the fear and she reached up her arms towards Moira.
The Sous Chef raced around the counter and lifted the fragile little body into her arms as the child began to cry. Moira noticed an abnormal lightness to the child that spoke to her complete and utter malnutrition. A dry, broken, painful sound struggled out of the little mouth and shook her entire body.
“ماذا يسمى” she asked the little girl in broken Arabic hoping to put a name to the child who had just begun to settle down in her arms.
The tiny face turned upwards to face the stranger and uttered only one word.
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