Grand Plans

"He's dead." I heard her say as she walked through my door.

"Damn it all, what happened?" I feigned ignorance.

It failed.

"Don't lie to me, you knew this would happen! You could have saved him and you did absolutely nothing - you, you disgust me."

I watched as the muscles in her face tightened. Her hand clinched into a fist with every word, almost like she felt each syllable push the boy farther and farther into the past. The truth is, I had pushed him there in my mind long ago. The boy was hopeless long before he crossed my path four months ago.

The first time I saw Karim was a wholly unique experience. I usually don't even notice the random riff-raff squatting in my city, but for some reason my attention was locked on a small boy curled into the street corner next to my office. As I approached him, my eyes burned at the sight of his bed of dark red snow. For whatever reason, I immediately sought help for the boy. Later, I covered his medical expenses and asked him of the events that led to his premature stroll down death's alley.

I couldn't believe the story. He spoke with suffering beyond his years. His tale was short. It was sad, painful, and unsettlingly fascinating. In the weeks to come I would make this child's future my own. I had grand plans for the boy.

But no one escapes a debt.