“I wake up early and stop by Serginho’s front garden.
When the gate isn’t closed all the way, I slip in and steal a flower. But they have so many that they won’t be missed.”
“Yes. But it’s not right. You shouldn’t do it any more. It’s not serious but it’s a kind of theft.”
“No it isn’t, Dona Cecília. Doesn’t the world belong to God?
Doesn’t everything in the world belong to God? Then flowers belong to God too...”
She was surprised by my logic. “It was the only way, miss. There’s no garden at my place.
Flowers cost money... And I didn’t want the glass on your desk to always be empty.”
She gulped. “Don’t you give me money from time to time, to buy a pastry?”
“I could give it to you every day. But you disappear...”
“I couldn’t accept it every day...” “Why not?” “Because there are other poor children who don’t bring anything to eat either.”
She pulled a handkerchief out of her bag and discreetly dabbed her eyes with it. “Don’t you see Little Owl?” “Who’s Little Owl?”
“The little black girl who’s my size and her mother rolls her hair up in little buns and ties string around them.”
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