The boy beggar

We were buying our metro tickets at La Defense...

A skinny little boy stood next to the machine trying to tell us how do it with a few words of broken English. He had a cup in his hand.

For some reason Rick's debit card didn't work, although it was fine the rest of the day. He used another and the tickets came out.

The boy and I pumped "Yeses." 

I gave him two Euros.

I walked away feeling badly that a child that young was a beggar. He could have been a gypsy child, the child of very poor parents, but he was a child with big brown eyes that was leading a very hard life.

I went back and asked him how old he was.

"12."

"Merci," I said, knowing I could do nothing to change his life.

He put his hands together and bowed and I walked away.