I drop down on my haunches to meet the child’s eyes, and offer her the tablet in my most soothing voice. She stares beyond me as if she has not heard, and perhaps she has not. The child is one of hundreds in this makeshift hospital and the noise around us is such that it seems the walls themselves are screaming. Yet she permits me to place the tablet on her tongue. I watch her throat work, swallowing the bitter pill, then I touch my palm to her cheek and turn to the next…

Two girls step out back of the children's home chewing gum like their lives depend on it. Kitty leads the way of course, swaggering down three dusty steps to the cracked concrete with its overflowing bins and buzzing flies. The yard is open to the street, has been since last winter when the fence got boosted for firewood. A rat scuttles from one bin to the next. Kitty raises an eyebrow…