I can still see the girl, staring at me through the car window. Her filthy, tattered clothes. Her lifeless face. The dead eyes. There I was in India, on a fancy research grant, studying the impact of anti-bribery enforcement on developing countries. I was in the hired car, she was begging at the stop light. We were separated by an eighth-inch of glass, and yet by a chasm of privilege, comfort, and opportunity that she would never, ever cross. Never.