The day I picked up Clara, she was in a screaming fight with another person over a single bread roll.
She was covered head to toe in grime, and she had already sliced the other guy's eyebrow open just to get that one soggy roll that was rolling in the mud.
I wandered over to the nearby food stand, grabbed two rolls, and tossed them right to her.
She scarfed down the first one in three huge bites, then tucked the second one tight against her chest.
No sooner had I turned to walk away than she started shadowing me, step for step, right on my heels.
"Hey, kiddo," I said, "I am going to the bathroom. Are you still going to follow me in there?"
She did not say a word. When I finished and walked back out, she was still standing exactly where she had been, waiting outside the door.
When I
