“Britain has declared war on Germany, one pound to read all about it!” I yell while waving a bundle of newspaper in the air.

“Sir, will you like to buy-“, before I finish the man says, “I’m not interested”.

“Very well” I mumble.

I put the newspaper back in my messenger bag and take out a slice of bread. I sit on the curb with about another five boys trying to sell something on the streets to. One boy looks much younger than the rest of us. Most are around eight to twelve but the boy seems to be four. He cry’s as he rubs his stomach.

“What happened to that kid” I ask the freckled face boy next to me.

“Didn’t sell enough to buy any food I guess” he responds.

I look back at the little boy and see a part of myself in him. Cold, alone, hungry.

I lean over towards him and give him the slice of bread. His eyes light up with joy as he begin gobbling down every last crum.

The freckle face boy next to me sees what I have done and says, “if you give food to every starving kid on the streets, you’ll be starving to”.

“I sold enough today to get a whole loaf anyway”.

He shakes his head and continues eating the apple in his hands.

The boys across from us begin to laugh and soon the rest of the boys notice. What could be so funny that they laugh so loudly?

I’m not the only one who notices because the freckle faced boy I talked to asks,”what has gotten you so giddy?”

The two blond gleeful boys look at us and say, “we just remembered something our parents use to tell us”.

“And what is that?” I ask.

“If you ever have to sell something, sell booze, because that’s all people drink these days, so my brother here tried selling some, and it sold out quicker than two dogs devouring a slab of meat.”

“My parent told me that if I were to become an orphan, I should just get the coins out the fountains” says the freckle face boy.

Everybody begins telling story’s about their parents, even the little boy, but then the blonde brothers look at me and say, “do you have any memories of your parents.”

I try to think of them. Maybe how they sounded, or how they looked, or even how they smelled, but nothing comes to mind.

“I have forgotten”.