Little victims of poverty

It wasn't raining outside. But I suddenly felt cold. It was my hand,which was touching a wet school dress of the little girl(age around 12 or 13) sitting next to me, in the bus. I had been so obsessed with my own thoughts that I didn't see her before.
I felt 'cold' at heart. How could someone possibly be wearing a such wet dress? It wasn't only soaking. How couldn't she be shivering with cold? May be she's so much used to it.
And the dress was so crumpled; probably it has never seen a pressing iron. It was clear to me that she was wearing it just out of washing.
Her bag was on her lap. It looked like as if it had been used for 10 years, which had a thousand mendings. But still I could see the books inside, through the big hole where it's zipper had been. My eyes unconsciously went to her shoes, but felt that they shouldn't have. It's not good to describe her. She was only one little victim of poverty.
Well,I know.. may be I shouldn't have bothered.. just like everyone else.. so I went back to my own thoughts..
And just wondered how brave that little heart is..
Going to school wearing those wet clothes..