Maria walked slowly down Fifth Avenue. Her old shoes made small sounds on the wet street. The rain had stopped, but water still dripped from the big buildings above her. She pulled her thin coat closer to her body. The coat was too big for her and had holes in many places.
She had not eaten for 2 days. Her stomach hurt from being empty for so long. Maria looked at the fancy restaurants and cafes as she walked. Through the big windows, she could see people eating good food. They wore nice clothes and smiled as they talked. Maria touched the few coins in her pocket. She did not have enough money to buy even a small piece of bread.
Then she saw it: a beautiful cafe with golden letters on the window that said Bella Vista. Through the glass, Maria could see a black piano in the corner. The piano was big and shiny. It looked like the one her father used to play when she was little. Her heart began to beat faster.
Maria remembered her father's hands moving across the white and black keys. She remembered the beautiful music that filled their small apartment. Those were happy times before everything went wrong—before her father died, before her mother started drinking, before they lost their home.
She stood outside the cafe for a long time. Rich people walked in and out. The men wore expensive suits. The women had perfect hair and carried designer bags. A man in a black uniform opened the door for them and smiled. Maria knew she did not belong in a place like this.
But she was so hungry, and she could play piano. Her father had taught her well before he died. Maybe, just maybe, they would let her play some music in exchange for food. It was worth trying.
Maria took a deep breath and walked toward the door. The man in the uniform looked at her with surprise. His smile disappeared when he saw her dirty clothes and messy hair. But he opened the door anyway.
Inside, the cafe was even more beautiful. The floor was made of shiny white stone. Crystal lights hung from the ceiling. The walls had expensive paintings. Everything looked perfect and clean. Maria felt very small and dirty in this place.
The people inside stared at her. Some whispered to each other and pointed. Maria heard a woman say, "What is she doing here?"
A man laughed and said, "Someone should call security."
The manager walked quickly toward Maria. He was a tall man with gray hair and an angry face. "Excuse me, miss," he said in a cold voice. "This is a private establishment. You cannot be here without proper dress code."