Twenty MinutesA Story by ArchiaThere’s a man outside and he was there when you entered the cafe
two hours ago. He was in a different spot, on the edge of the road, sitting
with a cup from the servo in his hand. His shirt is dirty, his pants are rugged
and when he moves you can see his bones aching. At one point he got up and
started asking people who walked by if they had any spare change. Now he’s
sitting with his back against the cafe window and the cup still in his
outstretched hand. People have two responses as they walk past. They either don’t
look, as if he’s just another part of the pavement or they turn their heads and
stare as if he’s an oddity. You don’t know why he would be considered an
oddity, there’s plenty of people like him around these streets. You know almost every person that passes could easily spare
a lot more than a couple of dollars. Anyone who walks past with their branded
handbags and smartphones would be lying if they said they couldn’t. Anyone who
walks past him on their way out of the cafe would only be greedy if they couldn’t
find some money they didn’t need. You wonder why people aren’t more willing to fish around for
a couple of dollars. Perhaps it’s too much effort for them to pull out their
wallets, or to stop as they walk to the bus. Maybe it’s because they just don’t
think about them. But then maybe it’s because they’re dirty, with rugged hair
and black fingernails. They’ll probably just spend the money on alcohol or
drugs they may think. Whatever if it, something’s stopping them from helping someone
to have something they have enough of. If everyone who passed gave them a dollar you know they
would have enough for a meal, and somewhere to sleep and even a new set of
clothes and a haircut. But it’s not like that. It’s been twenty minutes since you started watching him and
you haven’t seen anyone help him. The next twenty minutes could easily pass the
same way, and the next twenty minutes and then the next until the sky grows
dark and cold and barely anyone passes along the streets. Then once the night
is done the new day will begin and the twenty minutes will just continue over
and over again until what? Who knows. You don’t want it to be another twenty minutes like that.
You look in your wallet, pull out a note and pack up your stuff. You walk out
of the cafe, see him with his back to the window and smile. This twenty minutes
will be different. © 2015 ArchiaReviews
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1 Review Added on November 30, 2015 Last Updated on November 30, 2015 AuthorArchiaAboutReally, I'm just one of you. Come in, sit down, grab a cup of tea and enjoy a good read (now that may be a questionable statement). If there's anything in any of my stories that you want to be exp.. more..Writing
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