An argument broke out between the younger ones again. Only this time one of them got up and stormed down the road.
It was here I felt an evil bile rise up in my stomach. Up ahead crouched on the pavement steps was a disheveled man in his twenties. Unwashed and with a beaten face he had the aura of a drunkard.
The boy spoke to him and the man looked down at him. At this time the boys near me had already pulled apart my bag of cakes and were examining them. I must have missed something. For when I looked back down the street the older man had opened his shirt and pulled the young boys hand onto his chest and then further down.
The boy pulled back and the man laughed. Then the boy followed suit.
I felt ill.