He couldn’t have been older than ten. His oversized shirt hung loosely over his thin frame, his pants were torn, and his feet were bare. Mud covered his knees, rain soaked his hair, yet he remained completely still. His hands were clasped tightly together, his eyes closed, his face calm in a way that didn’t belong in that cold, dirty alley.
He was praying.
Daniel stepped closer, a mix of curiosity and irritation pushing him forward. The world had already fallen apart—what was this child doing, sitting there like nothing mattered?
“What are you doing here?” Daniel asked, his tone sharper than he intended.
The boy opened his eyes. There was no fear in them—only a quiet, steady calm.
“I’m praying,” he answered simply.
“For who? Yourself? You want money?”
The boy shook his head gently.
“I don’t need money, sir. I’m praying for her. The girl in room 308.”
Daniel felt something hit him hard in the chest. He stepped back, stunned.
“How do you know that? Who told you that room number?”
“No one,” the boy replied. “I come here every day. I know her name is Lily. I know she’s been asleep a long time. I thought… she might need someone out here, really waiting for her.”