The boy looked down with a tired grin at a meagre collection of coins in the palm of his hand. He cupped them protectively as if they possessed the power to impart life. His childish features had been worn away by poverty.
He chose one of the coins and offered it to the street-dwelling machine in front of him. The machine’s innards clanked. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and waited for his surprise. His parents had said it would be unforgettable. He loved his parents for getting him this gift.
The door of the suicide booth locked behind him.