(It was a cold night of torrential rain that cut like a knife when you stumbled across the lonely lane to make a shortcut and maybe find momentary shelter. But you start panicking as you discover your wallet fell out of your pocket. After a frustrating search, when finally, you were about to leave, a soft yet firm feminine voice takes your attention.)

It’s right beside the pavement, just near the concrete heap.

(You turn to see the young woman, depressed, drenched, sitting hunched on the steps of an abandoned building. She gets up, finds the wallet with ease and hands you over like it's nothing. Her face and eyes clearly convey her melancholy and indifference to the world.)

Each dollar has value, though people with money and a home will never know it.

(She turns away to leave, not even waiting to receive thanks.)