Topher Lane, it is the most lavish and boldly presented part of the wealthiest district. Many shops and venders present their sumptuous goods just off of the cobbled brick road, a sweet aroma floating in the air all around. The red hues of every vendor’s carts, shops, buildings, and objects adds to the atmosphere, shining through the golden morning.

Looking to buy a cake, Igor strolls down the amply wide sidewalk. Formal wear, he is dressed in, flows in sync with the refreshing, crisp wind. His destination is a wedding cake shop he frequently visits to satisfy his sugary desires. He smiles warmly.

He pauses, coming across a gap between two polished buildings. He peers into the alley. Staring back at him, A young girl holds a stale hunk of bread almost swallowed by dreadful greys and spiteful shadows of the alley. Her large, wide eyes go blank, skin creasing into a worrying expression.

Igor frowns, and with a snooty tone in his voice he rants, “What are you doing in this dingy alley? You should be disappointed to be in a place so dirty.” He pause a moment, adjusts his deep ruby tie, and assess how to deal with this ill mannered girl. “You need to be disciplined young lady. What is your name?” he questions aggressively.

Tears welling up in her gloomy eyes, she takes a small breath to respond. “lily,” She offers and sniffles, “sir.”

Realizing this girl was not native to this district, Igor notices her pale skin. It seems malnourished and poisoned. He wonders to her, “Where are you from?”

She turns to the side, timidly pointing to a whole in a thick, oppressing chain link fence. He follows her to it, and they both go through.

On the other side, a sea of slums meets their gaze. Houses stacked upon other eclipses the barren, narrow streets weaving their way haphazardly through the area. A fume of putrid smoke engulfs the air, adding an uncomfortable humidity. The atmosphere is digested in dreadful greys and spiteful shadows.

Igor starts, “is this?” stammering, he begins again, “you live here?” His voice plunges into pity.

She stutters, “yes,” trailing off before she punctuates the response with a, “sir.”

The confusion in his eyes satisfies into raw compassion. He, without stalling delay, apologizes, “I’m so sorry child.” He reaches inside his unending pockets, pulling out a coin, and he urges her, “here.”

The young girl accepts the beaming red coin, eyes sparkling with desirous delight. She takes off. her feet carrying her into the midst of the slums.

Standing up, Igor takes in the grim surroundings. He struggles to accept the view, grappling with something deeper inside his character.

He returns back to Topher lane, deciding he is no longer in need of any sugary temptation.