He pressed seventeen. Two floors below, I noted. I took my place, straightfaced and cold, on the left at the back and leaned myself against the wooden railing. He stood prependicular to me, an arms length away to my right. As the door closed, I wondered where his two friends were. The three of them, big, round and brown lived in contrast in this middle class family oriented environment. Their foreign tongue and weather beaten appearance, grace of their blue collared jobs, did them no favour in our silently discriminating society. Their presence was unwelcome and a failure of the capitalist system of rewarding whoever had the money to pay the rent. Then I saw those words, stretched out on those unshapely chests. They stood out in big white lettering against a grass-green background, like an advertisement for Nike Golf, Smile! Its a Charity :) It made me smile within. Then it spread to my body, like an itch. I had to say it, but I did not know him. And for what purpose? He