The Boy is looking for food

The boys wandered through the piles, looking for something to eat. My van stopped nearby, and I popped open the door, holding my breath, which only works for so long. I watched one boy, maybe five years old, as he held a piece of scrap metal and poked at the garbage. He would head in one direction, then change routes, scanning the ground.At one point, the tan, black-haired boy picked up what looked like half of a rotten melon. He brought it to his face, took a whiff, dropped it, then silently kept on moving. He eventually disappeared from view behind a shack, near where a woman (his mother?) was prodding at another pile of trash. It was almost as if they were thinking, “surely, this is not all there is for me.”