“My dog could do a better job with his tongue!” A rich man mocks a young boy polishing shoes in a subway tunnel, refusing to pay for his work. However, the next day, fate brings them together once more, with an unexpected turn neither saw coming.
A teenage boy sitting in an underpass | Source: Midjourney
“Just a handful,” he murmured under his breath. “Just a handful today, please.”
As the hours passed, Martin’s stomach growled, reminding him of the emptiness within. The simple breakfast of two slices of bread felt like a distant memory. He grabbed his water bottle, sipping slowly to ease the hunger.
“You can make it, Martin,” he reassured himself. “For Mom and Josephine.”
The image of his paralyzed mother and young sister waiting for him at home strengthened his resolve. With a forced smile, he prepared himself to face whatever the day had in store.
A sad boy in an underpass | Source: Midjourney
“Shoe shine, sir? Ma’am?” he called, his voice barely cutting through the noise of the bustling underpass.
The hours slipped by, but no one paused. Martin’s optimism began to fade, though he held onto his determination. As the afternoon heat grew stronger, he finally took a brief break. Reaching into his worn leather bag, he retrieved a small orange, his only meal for the day.
Just as he started to peel it, a pair of scuffed brown leather shoes dropped heavily in front of him.
“Make it quick, kid. I’m in a hurry,” a harsh voice demanded.
A brown leather shoe | Source: Pexels
Martin glanced up, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. The man standing over him radiated wealth, from his polished shoes to his expensive watch. This might be his chance for a generous tip.
“Of course, sir!” Martin replied, quickly putting his orange aside and grabbing his cleaning tools.
As Martin polished the man’s brown leather shoes, he could feel the tension rise. The man’s impatience was becoming palpable. “Why’s it taking so long? I don’t have all day!”
A person brushing a brown shoe | Source: Pexels
Martin’s hands shook ever so slightly, but he focused, determined to provide his best work. “Almost done, sir. I promise it’ll look great.”
The man snorted in disdain. “At your age, I was already earning more than my father. I wasn’t wasting my time shining shoes like some beggar.”
The words hit Martin hard. It had been three years since a drunk driver claimed his father’s life, tearing their family apart. The memory of that tragic night still lingered— the screech of tires, the horrific sound of twisting metal, and the crushing news that followed.
A grave in a cemetery | Source: Pexels
Only months after losing his father, Martin’s life shattered once more when his mother, Mariam, had a stroke, leaving her paralyzed. At just eleven, he was forced to take on the role of provider, giving up his childhood to step into his father’s shoes as a shoe shiner.
The memories threatened to drown him, but he shook them off. He had work to do. He had a family to care for.
“You call this shining?” the man scoffed, inspecting his shoe. “My dog could do a better job with his tongue!”
A wealthy senior man | Source: Freepik
Martin’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sir. I can try again—”
“Enough,” the man interrupted, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, Sylvester here. Move the meeting to 4. I’ll be late, thanks to this useless kid.”
As Sylvester continued his tirade into the phone, Martin’s thoughts wandered to better days. He recalled his father’s steady hands guiding him, showing him the craft of shoe shining.
A distressed teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not just about the shine, son,” his father used to say. “It’s about dignity. Treat every shoe like it’s the most important one you’ll ever polish.”
“Hey! Are you even listening?” Sylvester’s harsh voice snapped Martin back to the present. “What’s your father thinking, sending you out here like this? Too lazy to work himself, huh?”
Martin’s throat clenched. “My father… he passed away, sir.”
Close-up of a sad teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Sylvester’s gaze sharpened. “I get it. Your mom’s probably with someone else by now, having more kids to send out begging, right? Don’t you people have anything else to do?”
Martin’s hands balled into fists, but he forced a calm smile. “That’ll be $7, sir.”
“SEVEN DOLLARS?” Sylvester shouted. “For this sorry excuse of a shine? Not a chance, kid.”
Before Martin could say a word, Sylvester yanked his shoes back and stormed off, leaving Martin alone, with nothing but a broken heart and empty hands.
A frustrated senior man | Source: Freepik
“Wait!” he called, running after the man. “Please, sir! I need that money. Please!”
But Sylvester was already in his car, speeding off, leaving Martin standing alone in a haze of dust and despair.
He collapsed against the wall, tears streaming down his face. Looking up at the sky, he imagined his father’s face.
“I’m trying, Dad,” he whispered. “I really am.”
His father’s final words echoed in his mind: “Remember, son. Never give up. Every bump is a step closer to your dreams. Remember.”
A sad boy looking up | Source: Midjourney
Wiping away his tears, Martin returned to his place. There was no room for self-pity, no time for sorrow.
The following morning, Martin was back in his usual spot, unpacking his kit with renewed resolve. Then, a commotion nearby drew his attention.
“Help! Someone help!” a woman’s desperate voice rang out.
Martin’s heart raced as he rushed toward the sound.
A startled senior woman covering her mouth | Source: Freepik
A small crowd had gathered around a luxurious car, and to Martin’s astonishment, he recognized the man inside—SYLVESTER. The same arrogant man who had belittled him earlier.
“He’s choking on an apple!” someone shouted. “The car doors are locked!”
Without a second thought, Martin grabbed a rock from the ground and smashed the car window. Glass exploded around him as he reached inside to unlock the door.
“Stand back!” he yelled, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.
A car with a broken window | Source: Pixabay
With all his strength, Martin landed several quick strikes to Sylvester’s back. In an instant, a piece of apple flew from Sylvester’s mouth as he gasped for air.
“You… you saved me,” Sylvester wheezed, staring up at Martin with wide, stunned eyes.
Martin helped him up, his own hands trembling. “Are you okay, sir?”
Sylvester nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “I can’t believe it. After the way I treated you yesterday… Why’d you help me?”
Martin shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”
A thoughtful senior man holding his glasses | Source: Pexels
Sylvester’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, kid. I treated you terribly. Please, let me make it up to you. Name your price. Anything you want!”
Martin took a moment to think, then looked up. “Just the $7 from yesterday. That’s all I need.”
Sylvester gaped at him in shock. “But… I could offer so much more. A new beginning, maybe?”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t need a new beginning, sir. I just need to take care of my family.”
Side view of a teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
With a sigh, Sylvester reluctantly handed over the cash. As the crowd began to thin out, he stayed behind, studying Martin’s expression. “You’re something else, kid. What’s your name?”
“Martin, sir.”
Sylvester gave a slow nod. “Martin. I won’t forget this… or you.”
As Sylvester headed toward his car, Martin gripped the hard-earned money tightly in his hand. He glanced up at the sky once more, a faint smile spreading across his face.
“I remember, Dad,” he whispered. “I always do.”
A smiling teenage boy looking up | Source: Midjourney
The following morning, Martin was abruptly awakened by his sister’s excited shouts.
“Marty! Marty! Come quickly!”
He hurried outside, his mother calling after them in bewilderment. There, on their doorstep, lay a white bag filled with cash and a note.
A bag full of cash | Source: Pexels
With shaking hands, Martin read aloud:
“Thanks doesn’t even begin to cover what you did. I know you’d turn this down, but you deserve a childhood filled with happiness. It only took me an hour to track down your address. The world really is small, huh?! I hope we cross paths again someday, and I hope you stay the kind-hearted person you are!
— Sylvester.”
Tears of happiness and disbelief welled up in Martin’s eyes. His sister leaped with excitement, while their mother, surprised by the sight of so much money, called from inside.
“Martin? What’s happening?” She rolled toward him in her wheelchair
A woman in a wheelchair | Source: Pexels
Martin’s mind spun. This money could change everything: his mother’s treatment, Josephine’s schooling, and their whole future. But was it right to take it?
He walked to the small altar in their cottage, taking two pieces of paper. On one, he wrote “REMEMBER,” and on the other, “FORGET.” He folded them carefully, shuffling them between his hands.
Lighting a candle in front of the crucifix, Martin closed his eyes. “Dad,” he whispered, “help me choose wisely.”
A burning wax candle against the backdrop of a cross | Source: Pexels
Taking a deep breath, Martin picked up a folded piece of paper and carefully unfolded it. A small smile appeared as he read the word “REMEMBER.”
In that instant, Martin understood. He would accept the money, not for himself, but for his family. He would carry with him his father’s teachings, his own challenges, and the reminder that kindness can flourish even in the most unlikely of places.
A young boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Josephine!” he called, his voice thick with emotion. “Go tell Mom we’re going to the doctor today. And then… maybe we’ll grab some ice cream on the way home. Get Mom a new, comfy mattress. And plenty of groceries for the week!”
As Josephine’s joyful squeals echoed around him, Martin pressed the note to his chest. He had remembered, and in doing so, he had discovered his path forward.
Side view of a happy boy | Source: Midjourney
