I see her carry the baby across her chest. He clings to her with hands, abnormally small. Half dressed, smeared in her selfishness, I see him shiver. His greedy, selfless eyes, his ribbed chest, his mud-clogged hair. A bloody bandage, Covered with ants, wrapped, protecting his head. She begs at my window with an empty bottle. I almost give in, then turn to my magazine instead.