By the time her mother passed away, Elena had nothing left.
No money.
No home.
No family.
The wind gusted again, and Elena shivered violently.
That was when a small voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Are you cold?”
Elena looked up.
Standing directly in front of her was a little girl, no older than four. She wore a bright yellow coat, her dark curls peeking out from beneath a knitted hat. In her mittened hands she held a small paper bag.
Elena blinked in confusion.
“A little,” she said softly. “But I’m fine.”
The girl tilted her head, studying her with surprising seriousness. Her eyes dropped to Elena’s bare feet.
