The young man sat beside the beggar.
Spread his shirt on the ground. Smiled. Smiled hard, teeth bared, face stretched into what he hoped was gratitude. He nodded at passersby, silently begging recognition.Nothing came.
People avoided his eyes as though his desperation were contagious.The beggar’s bag grew heavy.
Frustration crawled into the young man’s bones. His smile trembled. Then—almost without thinking—his face fell.
Not dramatically.
Just… fell.
His brows pulled together. His lips curved downward. His eyes hardened.
A woman passing flinched, dropped fifty naira into his shirt, and hurried away.The young man froze.
Another passerby slowed, frowned back briefly, dropped a naira note.
His heart raced.
He smiled again.
Nothing.
He frowned again.
Money.The realisation hit him like cold water.
It wasn’t hunger they paid for – It was resentment.The beggar laughed softly.The young man turned.The beggar was standing now, taller than expected, his spine straighter than it had any right to be. His eyes were bright. Alive.
“You dey try,” the beggar said. “But you never reach.”
He tied his nylon bag and held it out.
“Take.”
The young man hesitated. “Why?”
The beggar smiled—a full, unburdened smile that did not belong to the face he had been wearing all day.“Shift dey,” he said. “Everybody must rest.”
The young man took the bag.
The beggar walked away whistling in happiness – seemed relief.
To be continued…
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