He stood out.

Dressed in rags that look extremely uncomfortable, he was a sore sight.

I had just begun teaching in the kindergarten our family owned. Probably because of the fancy looks of the kindergarten attracted the young children to learn here; many were all cutesy. Little girls tying their hair in two pretty ponytails, and boys in wonderful snazzy coats and jackets. 

We took in the boy for no particular reason; our kindergarten was for the rich and smart. But somehow pity fell on him and we took him in.

"What's your name, little boy?" I'd asked him.

"L.No father.No mother. Five years." came the dull reply as if he was not interested.

L was some orphan. A poor orphan.

A tear rolled down my cheeks. I brushed it away with my hand. "Well, who cares for you?"

"I live on my own."

~

One day I caught L sitting outside near the fountain.

"L,"I began, approaching him,"what are you doing?"

"No father,"he recited again,"No mother," he looked up at me with tears in his eyes,"but now, I have a new friend."