The metro was bustling on a typical weekday evening. I was seated close to the window.
A ten-year-old child got inside the car as the doors opened at the next stop. With his disheveled hair, rumpled shorts, and a single, worn-out sneaker in his palm, he appeared to have fled from class. Most importantly, though, he was barefoot. He had a thin striped sock on one foot. He took an empty seat between two people and made an effort to blend in.
He was still noticed by those around him. When someone suddenly reached for their phone, another person shot them a critical look and instantly feigned to be deep in concentration. However, the man seated to the boy’s right had a different appearance.
He was dressed for work: heavy boots, a hefty jacket, and pants soiled with paint. He kept looking at the boy’s bare feet and then at his suitcase next to them. Something was on his mind.
There were two stops. Then one more. He abruptly leaned forward at the fourth stop, cleared his throat loudly enough for everyone to hear, and shouted something that startled them all.
– Pay attention. I recently purchased sneakers for my son. However, he will most likely succeed. He still owns a pair, and they are in good condition. They seem to be more important to you.
He opened his backpack and pulled out a box. I opened the lid. There were brand-new blue sneakers with tags inside.
It seems that the youngster did not comprehend. The shoes come first. Next, the man. Next, let’s return to the shoes. He put them on with care. They also fit flawlessly.
A hesitant smile came to his lips as he raised his head. Almost silently, he said:
I’m grateful.
The man shrugged, seemed unconcerned:
— Simply give back. whenever you are able.
At the next station, the boy got off. Wearing brand-new sneakers, he was no longer slouched and carried something more valuable than shoes: faith in other people.
