“Excuse me, sir. I need to check my account balance.”
The boy’s voice was soft, but it carried.
Maybe because the whole lobby had gone quiet for one strange second.
Maybe because he was so small standing under that giant chandelier, clutching a worn brown envelope to his chest like it held his whole world.
Maybe because people notice a child alone only when they have already decided he does not belong.
He looked about ten.
Thin.
Black.
Secondhand jacket hanging off his shoulders.
Shoes so worn the soles were starting to split at the toes.
