“I’ll repay you when I’m older,” the homeless girl pleaded as she asked the millionaire for a small carton of milk for her crying baby brother — and his reaction stunned everyone.

Her jacket was two sizes too big, frayed at the cuffs, and her sneakers had lost their original color long ago. Strands of dark hair escaped a messy knot at the back of her head, clinging to her forehead in the heat. In her arms, wrapped carefully in a thin, faded blanket, was a baby boy whose cries were soft but constant, the sound of exhaustion more than protest. Every few minutes, the girl adjusted the blanket, whispering something soothing, her face tight with worry far older than her years.

Most people passed without seeing her at all.

A few glanced, uncomfortable, then looked away faster.

“Please,” she said to no one in particular at first, her voice barely rising above the noise of traffic. Then she gathered her courage and focused on a man who had slowed near the entrance, clearly deciding whether to go in or continue down the block.

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