Life in London

United Kingdom.

East End, London.

At the entrance to the shabby, fish-smelling Westford Street, a little boy of seven or eight hurried up to the Flying Star Candy Shop. Seeing that the queue was "only" around two hundred people long, he quickly took his place at the end.

He had already visited every candy shop in the East End. This one had the fewest people.

The line moved forward slowly. Every so often, the boy poked out his grimy little head and gazed hopefully into the shop.

He could vaguely see several jars still sitting on the dark-brown "Subsidized" counter, and a happy smile appeared on his face.

At last, after queuing for a full hour and a half, the boy reached the front of the shop.

He wiped his runny nose, pulled his oversized coat—which had clearly been altered from an adult's clothes—tighter around himself, and handed the shopkeeper the little wooden box in his hands.

"Mr. Miller, I'd like to buy six ounces of raw sugar."

"You're in luck, little Andy." The plump shopkeeper tipped the last ceramic jar. "There are still five ounces left."

Just as he was about to pour the sugar from the jar into the boy's wooden box, a middle-aged man with oil and grime smeared all over his clothes reached out and shoved the box aside, saying in a rough voice,

"I'll take all five ounces."

Andy looked up at the man nervously, but gritted his teeth and stood firm before the counter, unwilling to yield an inch.

Mr. Miller covered the sugar jar and said to the middle-aged man,

"Sir, this child was here first."

"He cut in line." The man impatiently picked Andy up and flung him behind himself. "See? Just like that."

"You can't..."

The middle-aged man slapped several coins