Jeans

Tattered, torn, bloody -- the jeans were in a mess. The hard denim had done its best to prevent Muneer's skin from peeling off at more places after he got knocked off his bicycle by a speeding car. But the fabric itself was threadbare at almost a dozen spots, and was red from his blood.
There was no way Muneer could let his mother know about the accident. No, she would become hysterical. His limp was imperceptible, but his messy jeans were not. He quickly changed his clothes, and went out onto the balcony. He waited till there were no passersby in the lane below, and then casually dropped the piece of cloth into a shady corner.

Ghirni, a 12 year-old ragpicker was on his rounds. He noticed the dirty but otherwise new pair of jeans in the corner. He surreptitiously looked up and down the lane, and then with one swift movement of practiced hands, rolled the cloth into a ball and stuffed it into his sack.

Muneer smiled quietly. And then his mother called, "Beta, what happened to your cycle?" AbNQ