I honestly don’t know very much about Sharon other than her name and her age. She kept telling me that I had the most beautiful hair she’d ever seen. So of course, I took it out of the ponytail it was in and let her play with it. I mean, if there’s an eight year old telling you that you’re so pretty and have beautiful hair, I bet you’d do the same. Even though I don’t know a lot about her, I know that she was so happy that we were there that day. Sharon just needed love. But as she put her dark hand into my pale, white hand I felt just as much love from her.