He shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips.
“No,” he said. “You keep your toy.”
The rain continued to fall, but somehow it no longer felt as cold.
“Some things,” the man added gently, “are too precious to sell.”
The older girl clutched the money, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The man nodded once, then turned and walked back to his car. As he drove away, the red taillights fading into the distance, the two girls stood there for a moment longer—holding onto each other, holding onto the doll, and holding onto something they hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
