...See more
Hi everyone! I created a flash fiction inspired by points in our lives when we experience multiple negativities, and all we have to do is look around for that person who can change our perspective in life. I hope you got something to reflect on and be inspired by this.
-----
Emil slumped against the cold subway wall, staring at the turnstile that separated him from the platform. His day had been a cascade of minor tragedies—missing his alarm, spilling coffee on his shirt, forgetting to bring lunch. But the breaking point came now; standing at the ticket machine, realizing he was one penny short of a ride home.
It was absurd, really. One penny. Yet it unraveled him.
He tried to stop the tears, embarrassed by his weakness, but they came anyway, spilling over like a dam that had held back too much for too long. Emil wasn’t just crying over a penny. He was crying over the weight of a life that felt like it was slipping through his fingers, day by day, hour by hour. Crying over the dreams he’d shelved, the goals he’d failed to reach, the nagging thought that he was merely surviving instead of living.
“Here,” a voice said gently.
Emil lifted his blurry gaze to a man in a patched coat and worn shoes, who offered a single penny.
Emil hesitated, his pride flaring for a moment. But the man’s expression was so open and sincere that Emil couldn’t refuse. He took the penny with a trembling hand.
“Don’t worry. Take it,” the man said with a kind smile before walking away.
Emil muttered a shaky thank-you, quickly passing through the turnstile. He didn’t look back. But the man’s gesture stayed with him, a small act of kindness that felt enormous against his despair.
Days later, Emil saw the man again on the subway platform. He was chatting with a vendor selling roasted chestnuts, laughing like old friends. Emil noticed how the man moved. He seemed really easygoing like he didn’t have a care in the world, even with his worn-out clothes and tired face. It made Emil feel a bit ashamed; the guy had so little, but he looked genuinely happy. It was odd to see someone with so little who seemed so content while Emil felt weighed down by life.
He started noticing the man everywhere—on park benches, whistling while reading a dog-eared book, buying a single flower from a street vendor, then giving it to a child, standing in the rain, face tilted up as if savoring the drops. Emil’s curiosity grew into a habit. He began sitting near the man, silently observing.
One day, the man caught him watching. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he asked.
Emil glanced at the sky. It was overcast, and the air smelled faintly of garbage from a nearby bin. But the man’s sincerity made Emil pause. “I guess it is,” he replied softly.
As weeks passed, they began talking. Emil learned the man’s name was Luis. He worked odd jobs and lived in a shelter, but Luis never complained. Instead, he spoke of sunsets, the warmth of a good meal, and the joy of meeting kind strangers.
“You see,” Luis said one day, sitting on their usual park bench, “life doesn’t owe us grand moments. It’s the little ones that keep us going. Like finding a penny when you need it most.”
Emil laughed at the memory, but his chest tightened. Later that night, lying in his cramped apartment, Emil thought about Luis’s words. He realized how much time he had spent chasing something undefined—a purpose, a goal, a destination—while ignoring the journey entirely.
He thought about his childhood when catching fireflies or eating ice cream on a hot day felt like magic...
When had he stopped noticing those moments?
Slowly, Emil began to mimic Luis’s attitude. He noticed the sound of leaves crunching underfoot, the smell of fresh bread from a bakery, and the soft glow of streetlights on rainy nights. He began to appreciate the joy of small victories, finding excitement in preparing a delicious meal from scratch and taking pride in neatly folding his laundry. Each little victory became a reason to celebrate, adding a splash of joy to his day.
One evening, he pulled out a notebook and wrote down three small joys from his day. A coworker’s kind words. The sweetness of an apple. The subway arrived on time.
At first, writing felt unfamiliar, but with time, it transformed into a powerful ritual. Emil found himself looking for moments to write about, scanning his day for beauty, for kindness, for wonder.
It wasn’t an immediate transformation. Emil still struggled and felt lost some days. But now, he had anchors—tiny sparks of light to hold onto when the darkness crept in.
Months later, Emil passed a stranger at the subway turnstile, fumbling for change. The man looked frustrated, his shoulders sagging. Emil smiled, reached into his pocket, and handed over a penny.
“Here,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”
As the stranger walked away, Emil glanced around the platform. The air was thick with the usual hum of city life, but tonight, it felt different. Emil felt different. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.
