Day 185

He sat on a wheelchair with a blank stare. Occasionally, he gazed at the women who sat on static benches screwed to the train. His mother spoke with a loud monotone – loud enough not to be drowned by the train grinding against the tracks – asking alms for him. That was when he shifted his stare back and forth the strange women and his limp legs. He got pushed from aisle to aisle, his mother repeating the same spiel to different sets of women who generously took out their purses for the mother and child.

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