Walking home from dinner tonight, we came across two, small, Thai boys playing in the empty street. They could not have been more than four years old, and I would guess three if we were in America, but people tend to be smaller here. Behind the boys was their home, a small, single-story shack with a sliding door open to the inside. The boys were linking arms, with grins on their faces. As we approached them, their grins turned to frowns, as if trying to deter us from our route. I was holding an empty wrapper that could easily be confused for a new treat with its contents still inside. One of the boys pointed to it, and when I didn’t hand it to him, because, well, it was empty, he continued to point. I
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