I felt sorry for the young boy—just seven years old. I invited him in, gave him a glass of water, and a seat. He looked tired, with dirt on his face.
“Tommy, where do you live? Do you know your address?” I asked gently. He shook his head. “I was with my uncle, but he said he couldn’t take care of me anymore. He left me on the street.” It was worse than I had expected.
Though I had many questions, my main concern was Tommy’s safety. I didn’t want to scare him by calling the police immediately. I reassured him, “We’ll figure this out. Let’s get you fed and cleaned up first.”
After a good meal and a bath, Tommy seemed more relaxed. He even managed a small smile. I contacted a friend in social services who promised to come and help.
My priority remained Tommy’s safety as we worked on a solution.
