In an alley crushed by the heat, Lucas walks alone, accustomed to hunger and indifference. That morning, however, a simple cry will upset his life.
The alley was burning under the late morning sun. The ground was so warm that it seemed to vibrate. Lucas, just nine years old, was slowly advancing, a bag of scrap metal almost as large as dragging him behind his frail shoulder.
His shirt was torn. His shorts holed in the knees. His feet, naked and hardened by the street, burned him at every step.
But the pain, he knew.
Hunger too.
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