A heavily pregnant boy wore nothing but a pair of sweatpants with a worn out T-shirt and a thin jacket as he roamed the streets in the middle of the cold winter. He carried a small bag pack which he had picked up from somewhere inside carrying nothing but a few piece of clothing. He held a tray that had an assortment of sweets in which he sold every day. A convenience store owner down the street had gave him some to sell, in which he had to clean the store every night after it closes in exchange. It was 11pm and there was barely anyone left on the streets. Turning back, the boy slowly made his way to the convenience store.

Every step he took hurt. His back was aching from the constant walking and his legs were so swollen the slippers looked like they were going to break anytime. The hunger he felt was like a gaping hole in his stomach. He knew his baby was hungry. He always knew. He counted the money he made today, it was barely enough to get him a full meal. He resigned to fate with a sigh as he prayed silently that his baby would not be harmed in anyway because of his incompetent mother who couldn’t even give him or her proper food. The boy was painfully skinny even though he was 6 months pregnant, and he once fractured a rib because his body was too weak to support the new weight. But he never had to money to see a doctor and get proper treatment. The bone had healed wrongly and it stabbed painfully every time he breathed. But he still held on. He knew that he wasn’t able to provide for his child but the baby was more than family to him. His soul and dreams had taken such a beautiful form. He often worried about the future when the baby came but the very