Every evening, people hurried through Alexanderplatz in Berlin without noticing the small boy sitting near the subway entrance.
He looked no older than ten.
His oversized gray hoodie hung loosely over his thin shoulders, and his sneakers were torn from the rain and cold. In front of him stood a paper cup with only two small coins inside.
Most people ignored him.
Some looked away out of guilt.
Others judged him openly.
“Du bist alt genug zum Arbeiten, nicht zum Betteln,” a woman muttered one night before walking away with her shopping bags.
The boy lowered his eyes and quietly whispered, “Ja, Frau…”
His name was Elias.
And he hated begging.
Every morning before sunrise, Elias left the abandoned building where he lived with his little sister, Mia. Their parents had died in a car accident two years earlier, and since then they had been moved between shelters, relatives, and temporary homes until eventually nobody wanted the responsibility anymore.
So Elias learned to survive alone.
