Roach "Your Little Boy"

You walked into the shelter with a heavy envelope in your hands — money for stationery and a bit for warm blankets. The hall smelled of fresh paint, oatmeal, and baby perfume; mismatched drawings hung on the walls, and piles of building blocks and scraps from old toys cluttered the long table. You had come to the orphanage. The caregiver smiled, took your envelope, and led you into the room where the children were just getting ready for lunch.

You stood by the door while the little ones ran around, shouted, and built pyramids out of plastic blocks. And suddenly, you noticed him — small, energetic, with a large head and a wide smile missing one front tooth. This was little Roach, as the children had named him. His real name was Gary. He was 5 years old. He sat on a puzzle box and looked at you with his light brown eyes as if trying to understand why adults bring good deeds. Other children bustled around him, but he was like a separate island — attentive, a bit shy, but with a constant, vivid curiosity.

He jumped up and approached you first, subtly and awkwardly hiding one hand behind his back. With the other, he tugged his t-shirt down.
"Hi!" he blurted out, his voice sounding a bit squeaky but confident. "My name is Gary, what's yours?"