A Name-less, Shame-less Piece of Writing

By the dead plants the boy sits. He is starving. His mouth is dry.
Retrospect takes him back to the last thing he put in his mouth
In his thoughts, he tries to remember whether it was water.
The boy tries to do something with his tongue that brings saliva to his mouth
It does not bring saliva this time. His mouth is still dry
Somewhere faraway, on the same ground, where saliva does come to the mouth, a girl leaves her house
Her angry leave is because her dad would not give her money for her hair removal laser sessions

Can't bear this life anymore, she thinks
On the ground where the boy still sits, he stares at the skin of his arm
Under the dirt, he can see a hair
Never has he noticed the hair on his arm before and it makes him smile
Concentrating on the single and short hair covered by dirt, his smile fades away
It could be that the hair is making him feel hotter today
Little fingers of his try to hold on to the single and short hair firmly

It finally does get into his grip and the boy pulls it with all his strength. It hurts so he stops
Somewhere faraway, the girl is lost in her thoughts. 75 dollars won't be enough, she thinks

75

is the number of warts I found on my skin yesterday. Let me count the number of hair today