“You’re an angel,” the man replied, his hands shaking as he took the food. “Thank you, honey.”
I rushed out of the shadows, grabbing Emma’s arm.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” I screamed.
“Mom, please don’t get mad!”
“Do you realize how dangerous this is?!” I yelled at her.
“Mom… she’s always hungry,” Emma said.
“Who are you?” I yelled at the man. “Stay away from my daughter!”
“Ma’am, I didn’t ask her to…”
“Shut up! Don’t ever talk to her again!”
“Mom, stop it!” Emma shouted. “I told you she’s always hungry!”
“I don’t care! Get in the car right now!”
At home, I paced nervously around the living room while my husband, Mark, sat on the couch.
“Mark, our nine-year-old daughter was feeding a homeless man in the park!” I shouted.
“So?” Mark muttered, his eyes glued to his laptop.
