The underground passage echoed with the shuffle of hurried footsteps. Amidst the hustle, 14-year-old Martin sat quietly by the wall, his shoe-shining kit spread before him. His eyes darted hopefully at each passing shoe, praying for a customerโฆ

A teenage boy sitting in an underpass | Source: Midjourney
โJust a handful,โ he whispered to himself. โJust a handful today, please.โ
As the day wore on, Martinโs 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.
โYou can do this, Martin,โ he told himself. โFor Mom and Josephine.โ
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.
A sad boy in an underpass | Source: Midjourney
โShoe shine, sir? Maโam?โ he called out, his voice barely audible above the din of the underpass.
Hours ticked by, but no one stopped. Martinโs 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.
โHurry up, kid. Clean it. Iโm in a rush,โ a gruff voice barked.
A brown leather shoe | Source: Pexels
Martin looked up, his heart racing with excitement and trepidation. The man towering above him exuded wealth from head to toe. This could be his chance for a good tip.
โRight away, sir!โ Martin said, setting aside his orange and reaching for his supplies.
As he worked on the brown leather shoes, the manโs impatience grew. โWhatโs taking so long? I donโt have all day!โ
A person brushing a brown shoe | Source: Pexels
Martinโs hands trembled slightly, but he focused on giving his best service. โAlmost done, sir. I promise itโll look great.โ
The man scoffed. โAt your age, I was already making more than my father. I wasnโt shining shoes like some beggar.โ
Those words stung poor Martin. It had been three years since a drunk driver had taken his fatherโs life, leaving their family shattered. The memory of that fateful night still haunted Martinโthe screeching tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and the devastating news that followed.
A grave in a cemetery | Source: Pexels
Just months after losing his father, Martinโs 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 fatherโs 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.
โYou call this shining?โ the man sneered, examining his shoe. โMy dog could do a better job with his tongue!โ
A wealthy senior man | Source: Freepik
Martinโs cheeks burned with shame. โIโm sorry, sir. I can try againโโ
โForget it,โ the man cut him off, pulling out his phone. โYeah, Sylvester here. Reschedule the meeting to 4. Iโll be late, thanks to this incompetent brat.โ
As Sylvester ranted into his phone, Martinโs mind drifted to happier times. He remembered his fatherโs gentle hands guiding him, teaching him the art of shoe shining.
A distressed teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
โItโs not just about the shine, son,โ heโd say. โItโs about dignity. Treat every shoe like itโs the most important one youโll ever touch.โ
โHey! Are you even listening?โ Sylvesterโs sharp voice yanked Martin back to reality. โWhatโs your father doing, sending you out here like this? Too lazy to work himself, huh?โ
Martinโs throat tightened. โMy fatherโฆ he passed away, sir.โ
Close-up of a sad teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Sylvesterโs eyes narrowed. โOh, I see. So your motherโs probably moved on with someone else, popping out more kids to send begging, right? Donโt you people have anything better to do?โ
Martinโs fists clenched at his sides, but he forced a polite smile. โThatโs $7, sir.โ
โSEVEN DOLLARS?โ Sylvester exploded. โFor this pathetic excuse of a shine? I donโt think so, kid.โ
Before Martin could react, Sylvester grabbed his shoes and stormed off, leaving Martin empty-handed and heartbroken.
A frustrated senior man | Source: Freepik
โWait!โ he called out, chasing after the man. โPlease, sir! I need that money. Please!โ
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 fatherโs face.
โIโm trying, Dad,โ he whispered. โIโm really trying.โ
His fatherโs last words echoed in his mind:ย โRemember, son. Never give up. Each bump is a step closer to your dreams. Remember.โ
A sad boy looking up | Source: Midjourney
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.
โHelp! Someone help!โ a womanโs frantic voice pierced the air.
Martin rushed towards the sound, his heart pounding.
A startled senior woman covering her mouth | Source: Freepik
A small crowd had gathered around a fancy car, and to his shock, he recognized the man inside. SYLVESTER. The same entitled man who had insulted him.
โHeโs choking on an apple!โ someone yelled. โThe car doors are locked!โ
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.
โStand back!โ he shouted, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.
A car with a broken window | Source: Pixabay
With all his might, Martin delivered several sharp blows to Sylvesterโs back. Suddenly, a chunk of apple flew from Sylvesterโs mouth, and he gasped for air.
โYouโฆ you saved me,โ Sylvester wheezed, looking up at Martin with wide, shocked eyes.
Martin helped him to his feet, his own hands shaking. โAre you okay, sir?โ
Sylvester nodded, still catching his breath. โI canโt believe it. After how I treated you yesterdayโฆ Why did you help me?โ
Martin shrugged. โIt was the right thing to do.โ
A thoughtful senior man holding his glasses | Source: Pexels
Sylvesterโs eyes filled with tears. โIโm so sorry, kid. I was horrible to you. Please, let me make it up to you. Name your price. Anything!โ
Martin thought for a moment, then looked up. โJust the $7 from yesterday. Thatโs all I want.โ
Sylvester stared at him in disbelief. โButโฆ I could give you so much more. A new start, maybe?โ
Martin shook his head. โI donโt need a new start, sir. I just need to take care of my family.โ
Side view of a teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Reluctantly, Sylvester handed over the money. As the crowd dispersed, he lingered, studying Martinโs face. โYouโre quite something, kid. Whatโs your name?โ
โMartin, sir.โ
Sylvester nodded slowly. โMartin. I wonโt forget thisโฆ or you.โ
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.
โI remember, Dad,โ he whispered. โI always do.โ
A smiling teenage boy looking up | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, Martin was jolted awake by his sisterโs excited screams.
โMarty! Marty! Come quick!โ
He rushed outside, his mother calling after them in confusion. There, on their doorstep, sat a white bag bulging with cash and a note.
A bag full of cash | Source: Pexels
With trembling hands, Martin read aloud:
โThanks is a small word for what you did. I know youโd refuse this. But you deserve a happy childhood. Took me just an hour to find your address. The worldโs a small place, isnโt it?! Hope we meet again someday, and I hope youโre just the pure heart of gold you are!
โ Sylvester.โ
Tears of joy and shock filled Martinโs eyes. His sister jumped up and down, and their mother called out from inside, clearly shocked at seeing so much money.
โMartin? Whatโs going on?โ she approached in her wheelchair.
A woman in a wheelchair | Source: Pexels
Martinโs mind raced. This money could change everything: his motherโs treatment, Josephineโs education, and their entire future.ย But was it right to accept it?
He walked to the small altar in their cottage, grabbing two pieces of paper. On one, he wrote โREMEMBER,โ and on the other, โFORGET.โ He folded them, shuffling them with his hands.
Lighting a candle before the crucifix, Martin closed his eyes. โDad,โ he whispered, โhelp me make the right choice.โ
A burning wax candle against the backdrop of a cross | Source: Pexels
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 โREMEMBER.โ
In that moment, Martin knew. He would accept the money, not for himself, but for his family. He would remember his fatherโs lessons, his own struggles, and the kindness that can exist even in the hardest of hearts.
A young boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
โJosephine!โ he called out, his voice brewing with emotion. โGo tell Mom weโre going to the doctor today. And thenโฆ maybe weโll stop for ice cream on the way home. Get Mom a new comfy mattress. And lots of groceries for the entire week!โ
As Josephineโs 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.
Side view of a happy boy | Source: Midjourney
Hereโs anotherย story: When my husband upgraded his and his momโs 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 โas is,โ and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.