**Diary Entry**
Ive always prided myself on my disciplinemeetings at sharp eight, mergers by noon, and evenings in my flat overlooking London, where the city lights flicker like distant stars. But today, something shattered that precision.
It was freezing this morning, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. Id stopped at my usual café near the office, nursing a black coffee while reviewing notes for the board meeting. Thats when I noticed hima small boy, no older than nine, hovering near my polished Oxfords.
“Please, just ten pounds, sir,” he pleaded, clutching a worn shoebox. “Ill make em shine proper.”
I barely glanced up. “Not interested.”
But he didnt move. Instead, he knelt right there on the frosty pavement, his mismatched gloves fumbling with a rag.
“Please, sir. Its for me mum. Shes poorlyneeds medicine.”
Something in his voice made me pause. His cheeks were chapped raw, his coat swallowing him whole. I sighed. “Ten pounds, then. But do it properly.”
His name was Alfie. Worked every day after school, he said, while his mumGracesat nearby, hunched and shivering. Pride kept her from begging, but desperation kept Alfie trying.
When he finished, my shoes gleamed. I handed him a twenty. He shook his head. “Mum says we dont take what we aint earned.”
Stubborn kid. I tucked the notes into his glove anyway.
That night, my penthouse felt hollow. Warm bed, vintage wine, yet all I saw were Alfies too-bright eyes. By dawn, I was back at that café. Found him sharing watery tea with Grace, her breaths shallow.
I skipped the board meeting. Called a private clinic instead. Pneumonia, malnutritionthings no one should suffer in a city of billionaires.
Months passed. Grace recovered. I rented them a flat near Camden, stocked the cupboards, enrolled Alfie in school. He still polished my shoes sometimes, grinning. “Best in London, aint I?”
Tonight, tucking him in, he asked, “You got a mum, Mr. Whitmore?”
“Had one,” I said softly. “Worked hard as yours.”
His small hand gripped my sleeve. “Then Im glad you helped mine.”
Spring came. Alfies taller now, Graces smile warmer. And my shoes? Still shine like mirrors. But whats polished brighter is something no fortune could buya heart remembering where it began.
Funny, isnt it? The things that truly matter.
