A fiction that occurred

I'm jogging to work. On the street is a little girl, crying. I look around but no likely looking parent is in sight.
"Where's whoever looks after you?"
She just crys.
I don't want to call the police because isn't it better to engage with your fellow citizens than invoking the state?
"Have you got something with your address on?"
She turns round to show me what's written on her rucksack in biro. It's an address and post code and it's only round the corner.
I hold her hand and we go there. On the way I notice that she's only got one sock on and her shoelaces aren't tied.
The door's open. Inside is a dead person.
"Hello Daddy," she says.