Mick is getting dressed when a knock comes at his door. He buckles his belt and zips up, then goes to answer it. Palisha is on the other side with breakfast. She’s in her hotel work clothes, a pressed white button-down blouse and a pair of dark slacks. His birthday present is around her neck and it’s radiating a buttery glow against her smooth tan skin. They spent most of yesterday on the road checking the orphanages on their list, then hunting for others online back in his room until they ran out of gas. The last he remembered, she was lying in his arms on the bed, talking about what they saw and how sad and angry it’s making them feel. He doesn’t remember her leaving.
“Namaste, I hope you are hungry,” she says. Her smile is like sunshine as she passes him and sets the tray on the table.
