Ab walked from work as he loosened his tie, exhausted. He swore that he’d get out of this neighborhood because his children would not grow up here.
He made a prayer, that is until his thoughts were interrupted. A rock hit a guy. The man fell to the ground, & then a mob of soulless young men jumped on the man.
The man yelled, “Ayuda! Ayuda!”
Ab could not ignore the man’s plea & tried to help. A big man, a baby face, puffed his chest out & pushed Ab so far back. AB was not one to give up easily. Ab reached for the man’s hands to pull him out of the mob who was trying to steal the man’s wallet.
But the man disappeared from the grip Ab’s grip. He had to run away, on verge of tears. It was the third time he had heard those very same words, cries of help. “Ayuda! Ayuda! Por favor!” Those are cries that no one wanted to talk about or hear.
Everyone had assigned a face to evil, & they had forgotten the many disguises, the many languages of sheer diabolism.
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