A man lay half-buried among scattered cardboard and torn fabric. At first she thought he might be a worker resting, yet the expensive suit he wore — now covered with dust and dirt — told a very different story.
His jacket was ripped at the shoulder, and a deep scrape marked his forehead. One arm rested awkwardly beside him while a gold watch on his wrist glimmered in the fading sunlight, shining strangely in the middle of such poverty.
Lucia froze.
Her first instinct told her to run.
Her second told her to stay.
Continue on the next page:
