Twenty Minutes

Twenty Minutes

A Story by Archia

There’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 Archia


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"Maybe it’s because they just don’t think about them." This is a bit awkward, perhaps you could change 'them' to 'those less fortunate' or 'the ones stuck sitting on the ground as they walk past'

And same issue here; "They’ll probably just spend the money on alcohol or drugs they may think." You could perhaps change it to "They’ll probably just spend the money on alcohol or drugs, the passerby's may think."
Also, in the line right after that you say 'Whatever if it' and I think you meant 'Whatever it is' and the phrasing is also a little awkward for the same aforementioned reason.

"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." You have too many 'and' s and are lacking some punctuation here. Perhaps to make it flow better you could edit it to something like, "If everyone who passed gave them a dollar, you know they would have enough for a meal, and somewhere to sleep. Maybe even a new set of clothes or a haircut."

Okay. That aside, this was heartbreaking turned to heartwarming. I really loved your message here. I think this is a great story, and for the most part, you executed it wonderfully.


Posted 8 Years Ago



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Added on November 30, 2015
Last Updated on November 30, 2015

Author

Archia
Archia

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Really, 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
Is it Worth It? Is it Worth It?

A Story by Archia