The icy wind blew hard down the street in Dallas, Texas. David tightened his dark suit jacket and took a slow sip of hot coffee inside the warm, cozy cafe. He was checking emails on his phone, trying to enjoy a rare afternoon break from his busy job at the firm.

Outside, the sidewalk was covered in a thin layer of freezing slush. A small girl in a oversized pink beanie stood on the corner, shivering in the cold air. She held a small, colorful bundle of flowers wrapped in paper, her tiny hands bright red from the freezing weather.

David: Look at that poor little kid out there. Where are her parents?

Cafe Manager: She's been out there all morning, sir. Pushing those little flowers on anyone walking past.

David looked down at his warm meal and felt a sharp sting of guilt. He pulled out his leather wallet, grabbed a fifty-dollar bill, and stepped out into the freezing wind.

Girl: Mister... you want to buy some flowers?

David: Yes, sweetheart, I'll buy them. Hungry too? Come inside where it's warm.

Girl: I can't go inside. I have to stay right here and sell all of them.

David: Why do you have to stay out here in the snow, kiddo? Where is your mom?

Girl: I'm getting money for Mummy. Look, I carry her picture right here so I don't get scared.

The toddler reached into her tiny coat pocket, but her frozen fingers slipped. A small, worn photograph fell out and tumbled onto the slushy pavement. She stooped down quickly to pick it up, wiping the cold moisture off the corner with her sleeve.

Girl: That's my Mummy!

David looked down at the photograph in her small hands. His entire body went numb. The face staring back at him in that picture was his wife, Clara—the woman he had buried three years ago after a fatal highway crash. The breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding violently against his ribs as he dropped to one knee in the snow.

David: No... that's my wife. She died years ago.

Girl: Mummy's not dead! She's locked downstairs over there!