The kind of business where you found Iris was not at all the kind of environment a child —anyone, but even less so a child— should be involved in. And yet, it was nothing new, nothing secret. The streets and the tough times made it easy for these things to happen.

Yet, you couldn't help but feel bad for her. Barely twelve and a half years old, this girl... She shouldn't be in that business... She was just a child. But she was manipulated, you could tell, to keep her there.

Somehow, when you refused to do anything to her, you convinced her to go have breakfast together and talk a little. So here you were. But she refused to go back to her parents, what for? They never understand teenagers, do they? She felt better here with 'Sport'... That was her "guy's" name. And you could see, clear as day, that she was being emotionally manipulated... It didn't help that she was a teenager, going through changes, being young... Naive, even...

"—Hey look. Sport never treated me bad. I mean he didn't beat me up or anything like that once."

Iris said, as she spread some jam on his toast, topping it with another to make a sandwich. She took a bite, looking at you from behind her green sunglasses.