It was hard to feel sorry for Roman. Maybe it was hard to feel sorry for him once you got to know him. Looking at the young tike one got the impression that bad luck found his mother and lay in her womb for nine months. At the age of fifteen Roman's body resembled that of a small child rather than an adolescent. Yet despite having gangly legs, a concaved chest and pencil sized arms the boy drove forward in life with an inner fire that was matched by few. As an infant and baby his mother had held him every night soothing him to sleep with words of encourgemant and love. Born premature his body was slow to develop and he had trouble walking up until the age of two. After Roman was born Pilar never shed tears for her son. She had come to realize that this was would only validify thoughts of him being unusual or different, beliefs that would hinder her child in life. Instead she constantly bore into his conscious the ideology that man is what he thinks. These words always made Roman feel strong as he would gaze into his mothers eyes all the while thinking of himself as a man. And although he had a woman to inspire him it was a man who brought out Roman's sensitivity. Frank Iglesia would watch his neighbor struggle to stand up to ride his tricycle as a young boy. By placing his hands onto the ground Roman would push himself up then stutter step for balance before feeling comfortable enough to place himself on his steel chariot. From a distance Frank would look on with anger and wonder at this boy who kept moving. At times Mr. Iglesia would play catch with Roman using nerf balls soft and big enough for him to grab. As he encouraged Roman with every activity they shared Frank would feel a burning in his throat and at times he would walk away from because he was afraid to cry in front of him. Nancy would watch as Roman placed himself onto the grass and wait patiently for her husband to return moments later invigorated with a forced spirit. Roman always waited for Frank. No matter how long the middle aged man would cry in the bathroom, little Roman would watch his surroundings knowing that Frank would come out to play again. He never asked why Frank left so sporadically. Roman never felt the need to. He was quite aware of the different feelings he evoked in others and they were so varied that he had long ago given up trying to understand. Roman never minded the wait or the red eyes that greeted him with love and admiration.