“Just a handful,” he whispered to himself. “Just a handful today, please.”

As the day wore on, Martin’s stomach growled in protest. The meager breakfast of two bread slices felt like a distant memory. He reached for his water bottle, taking a small sip to quell the hunger pangs.

“You can do this, Martin,” he told himself. “For Mom and Josephine.”

The thought of his paralyzed mother and little sister waiting at home bolstered his courage. He plastered on his best smile, ready to tackle whatever the day would bring.

“Shoe shine, sir? Ma’am?” he called out, his voice barely audible above the din of the underpass.

Hours ticked by, but no one stopped. Martin’s hopes began to dwindle, but he refused to give up. As the afternoon sun beat down, he finally allowed himself a moment of respite. Digging into his worn leather bag, he pulled out a small orange, his lunch for the day.

Just as he began to peel it, a pair of dirty brown leather shoes landed in front of him with a heavy thud.

“Hurry up, kid. Clean it. I’m in a rush,” a gruff voice barked.

“Right away, sir!” Martin said, setting aside his orange and reaching for his supplies.

As he worked on the brown leather shoes, the man’s impatience grew. “What’s taking so long? I don’t have all day!”

Martin’s hands trembled slightly, but he focused on giving his best service. “Almost done, sir. I promise it’ll look great.”

The man scoffed. “At your age, I was already making more than my father. I wasn’t shining shoes like some beggar.”

Just months after losing his father, Martin’s world crumbled further when his mother Mariam suffered a stroke, leaving her paralyzed. At just eleven years old, he had shouldered the burden of a provider, sacrificing his childhood to follow in his late father’s footsteps as a shoe shiner.

The memories threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed them aside. He had a job to finish. He had a family to feed.

Martin’s cheeks burned with shame. “I’m sorry, sir. I can try again—”

“Forget it,” the man cut him off, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, Sylvester here. Reschedule the meeting to 4. I’ll be late, thanks to this incompetent brat.”

As Sylvester ranted into his phone, Martin’s mind drifted to happier times. He remembered his father’s gentle hands guiding him, teaching him the art of shoe shining.

“Hey! Are you even listening?” Sylvester’s sharp voice yanked Martin back to reality. “What’s your father doing, sending you out here like this? Too lazy to work himself, huh?”

Martin’s throat tightened. “My father… he passed away, sir.”

Sylvester’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see. So your mother’s probably moved on with someone else, popping out more kids to send begging, right? Don’t you people have anything better to do?”

Martin’s fists clenched at his sides, but he forced a polite smile. “That’s $7, sir.”

Before Martin could react, Sylvester grabbed his shoes and stormed off, leaving Martin empty-handed and heartbroken.

“Wait!” he called out, chasing after the man. “Please, sir! I need that money. Please!”

But Sylvester was already in his car, speeding away, leaving poor Martin stranded in a cloud of dust and disappointment.

He slumped against the wall, tears streaming down his face. He looked up at the sky, imagining his father’s face.

“I’m trying, Dad,” he whispered. “I’m really trying.”

Wiping his tears, Martin returned to his spot. There was no time for self-pity. No time for tears.

The next morning, Martin was back at his usual spot, setting up his kit with determination. Suddenly, a commotion nearby caught his attention.

“Help! Someone help!” a woman’s frantic voice pierced the air.

Martin rushed towards the sound, his heart pounding.

“He’s choking on an apple!” someone yelled. “The car doors are locked!”

Without hesitation, Martin grabbed a rock from the roadside and smashed the car window. Glass shattered everywhere as he reached in to unlock the door.

“Stand back!” he shouted, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.

With all his might, Martin delivered several sharp blows to Sylvester’s back. Suddenly, a chunk of apple flew from Sylvester’s mouth, and he gasped for air.

Martin helped him to his feet, his own hands shaking. “Are you okay, sir?”

Sylvester nodded, still catching his breath. “I can’t believe it. After how I treated you yesterday… Why did you help me?”

Martin shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”

Sylvester’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, kid. I was horrible to you. Please, let me make it up to you. Name your price. Anything!”

Martin thought for a moment, then looked up. “Just the $7 from yesterday. That’s all I want.”

Martin shook his head. “I don’t need a new start, sir. I just need to take care of my family.”

Reluctantly, Sylvester handed over the money. As the crowd dispersed, he lingered, studying Martin’s face. “You’re quite something, kid. What’s your name?”

“Martin, sir.”

Sylvester nodded slowly. “Martin. I won’t forget this… or you.”

As Sylvester walked away to his car, Martin clutched the hard-earned money in his fist. He looked up at the sky again, a small smile beaming on his face.

The next morning, Martin was jolted awake by his sister’s excited screams.

“Marty! Marty! Come quick!”

He rushed outside, his mother calling after them in confusion. There, on their doorstep, sat a white bag bulging with cash and a note.

“Thanks is a small word for what you did. I know you’d refuse this. But you deserve a happy childhood. Took me just an hour to find your address. The world’s a small place, isn’t it?! Hope we meet again someday, and I hope you’re just the pure heart of gold you are!

— Sylvester.”

Tears of joy and shock filled Martin’s eyes. His sister jumped up and down, and their mother called out from inside, clearly shocked at seeing so much money.

“Martin? What’s going on?” she approached in her wheelchair.

Martin’s mind raced. This money could change everything: his mother’s treatment, Josephine’s education, and their entire future. But was it right to accept it?

Lighting a candle before the crucifix, Martin closed his eyes. “Dad,” he whispered, “help me make the right choice.”

With a deep breath, he picked up a piece of folded paper and slowly opened it. A small smile lit up his face when he saw the word “REMEMBER.”

In that moment, Martin knew. He would accept the money, not for himself, but for his family. He would remember his father’s lessons, his own struggles, and the kindness that can exist even in the hardest of hearts.

“Josephine!” he called out, his voice brewing with emotion. “Go tell Mom we’re going to the doctor today. And then… maybe we’ll stop for ice cream on the way home. Get Mom a new comfy mattress. And lots of groceries for the entire week!”

As Josephine’s delighted squeals filled the air, Martin clutched the note to his chest. He had remembered, and in doing so, he had found a way forward.

Here’s another story: When my husband upgraded his and his mom’s tickets to first-class, leaving me in economy with our kids, I turned his flight into a nightmare.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.