There's a story, shared regularly on Facebook, about Franz Kafka meeting a little girl in a park. She was crying because she lost her doll. He buys a new one for her, they meet again, he gives her the doll and pretends it's the original one. She doesn't believe him. He starts telling her stories about the adventures of the doll. They meet regularly in the park for about a year and become friends.

This is shared regularly and liked because it's such a moving story. But nobody seems to notice that apparently 100 years ago in Prague, an adult man could become friends with a little girl without any suspicions of others involved. Or that now, in most places, Kafka would have had the police on his back, like his protagonist Joseph K.

Especially that last fact hurts me very much.