A sister left him penniless on the street, but he learned to find happiness
Sometimes a chance encounter can profoundly change our perspective, making us stop, reflect, and think deeply. I’m a person who’s easily moved by others’ pain, and this story still hasn’t left me. For days, I’ve been unable to sleep soundly—my thoughts keep drifting back to a young man I met on a street near the train station in Manchester.
I was on my way to visit a friend—it was an ordinary day amidst the city’s usual hustle and bustle. People were rushing, cars were honking, and a chilly wind nipped at our faces. Suddenly, my eyes caught a small figure. At first glance, it seemed like a child. Looking closer, I realized it was a young man, just with a very delicate build and an unusual gait.
He was carrying a puppy—tiny, fluffy, with a wet nose and kind eyes. Under his arm, he held a bundle of old newspapers that threatened to slip away at any moment. His movements were uncertain, his fingers stiff, his face somewhat askew. It was clear he had some special needs—perhaps psychological or neurological. But there was something so bright and pure about him that I couldn’t just walk past.
While I admired the puppy, the young man dropped his newspapers. I immediately rushed to help. As I packed them into a bag from my purse, I cautiously asked, “Where are you taking these?”
He answered quietly, “To the recycling center. To earn some money for puppy food.”
Those words hit harder than any slap.
As we gathered the newspapers, he shared that he had lived with his mum. After her passing, his sister sold their home, took the money, and went abroad. She left him alone. Without documents, without support, without money. Without a chance.
He told his story without bitterness. Just as a fact. As if he had come to terms with it long ago. Now, he lives in a hostel for people with disabilities, eats whatever he can, collects scraps and returns bottles to buy food for his puppy. His name is Alex. As for the dog… it didn’t have a name.
Some time passed. One chilly evening, I saw Alex again. He was walking down the street, holding the puppy—now grown and sturdy—on a makeshift lead. The puppy recognized me and ran over, wagging its tail and joyfully yapping. I took some food out of my bag—the dog pounced on it with such hunger that it broke my heart.
“He eats anything,” Alex said proudly. “But he loves it most when I cook for him myself. Though we rarely have any meat.”
We began to chat. He shared how attached he’d become to the dog. That the dog is his only friend, his reason for living, his comfort and defense against loneliness. They sleep under the same blanket and share whatever little they have.
With a particular childlike hopefulness in his voice, Alex said, “Recently, we met a dog on the street. It looked like him. I wondered if it could be his mother. Would they recognize each other, I wonder?”
A lump formed in my throat. I barely managed to hold back my tears, standing there on the street amid the bustling city.
Then, unexpectedly, he asked, “Would you like to name him? I haven’t thought of anything. I just call him ‘puppy.'”
I nodded.
“Let’s call him Beam since you’re a ray of light for him.”
He hugged the dog, looked at me with wide eyes, and whispered, “Thank you… That’s a wonderful name. He’s now my Beam.”
I walked home, a lump in my throat, my mind echoing, “Oh Lord, how unjust this world is.” Some have dozens of houses, diamonds, cars. While others live in a shabby room, sharing their last crumbs with a puppy. And yet, they still shine with happiness.
I want to help Alex, but I don’t have wealth to offer. I can’t change his entire life. But now, every time I see him, I bring something: food, a warm coat, or just words of encouragement. And you know what the most amazing thing is? He always smiles. He thanks me for every little thing, as if it’s a gift from above.
Such people are a reminder that happiness isn’t found in money, status, or a perfect home. It’s in a warm hand, a loyal glance, a kind word. In simply not being alone.
Sometimes I want to shout: “People! Wake up! Look at all the pain around us!” But I realize—no one would hear a shout.
So I’ll just keep doing what I can. Because if just one Beam and one Alex are neither hungry nor alone, then my life has not been in vain.
