Muhammad sat in the dusty road. The afternoon breeze drifted past him, curling shapes in the brown earth.
He felt the warmth of the earth through his feet and the relative cool of the wall to his back. He closed his eyes and felt the wind caress his face like the girls had done years ago. While all was good now he knew this wind foretold a sandstorm that would soon envelop the city, as it did often at this time of year.
He opened his eyes again and spied the self-important business man; this man who had parked his car by Muhammad. Years ago, when the girls had caressed his face, he had also driven a car like this. Now he did little but sit and watch.
The man was a trader of some sort and argued over the price of his items with a storekeeper across the road. Muhammad quickly rolled to his left and, after deftly pulling a pair of cutters from his sleeve, pocketed the car’s Mercedes hood ornament. That might bring him enough for a small meal. He sat back and started to put his shoes on.
