He wears a little red sweatshirt with the hood up. I watch him come out from under the bridge and climb up the edge of the canal. “Hermanita!” He says and flashes me a huge grin. He plops down on my lap and I wrap my arms around the tiny eight year old as his arms wrap around my neck. “How are you doing little one?” I ask him and he sticks out his bottom lip and sighs. “Not so good. I think I have a fever. See?” And he pulls my hand up onto his forehead. I feel the night air