Silhouetted against the faint light from the window is a small, incredibly dirty girl. Her big brown eyes are open wide, filling with tears. She wears a tattered white dress. Her feet are bare and bloody. She holds a squirming baby.
One of her small filthy fingers is in the baby's mouth.
"Do you have any milk?" she asks. Her voice is so soft that Marisol has to lean forward to hear.
"I have milk at home, nearby," she says. "Where are your...