The Last Coin

I stood outside the vending machine, my stomach growling, as I stared at the last coin in my hand. I hadn’t eaten since the morning, and this one coin was all I had left. It could buy me a small snack to hold me over until tomorrow. But tomorrow didn’t have any promises, either.

I glanced down the street toward the shelter, wondering if they’d have space tonight. It wasn’t a guarantee, but I knew it was better to head there than spend what little I had on a snack I’d regret in a few hours.

Just as I was about to put the coin back in my pocket, I heard a soft voice behind me. “Excuse me, sir.”

I turned to see a small boy, maybe ten years old, looking up at me with wide, nervous eyes. His clothes were torn at the edges, and his cheeks were hollow. He glanced at the coin in my hand, then back at me. “Do you have any change for the bus?”

I froze, my fingers tightening around the coin. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. It was survival, or maybe hope, in the form of a single piece of metal.

But looking at that boy, I saw myself, years ago. The same worry, the same hunger, the same uncertainty. Without thinking, I held out my hand and offered him the coin. “Here, take it.”

His face lit up as he took the coin, his eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you so much!”

He ran off to the bus stop, gripping the coin tightly as if it were something rare and precious. I watched him board the bus, feeling strangely lighter, even with an empty stomach and empty pockets.

As I turned to leave, footsteps approached from behind. A woman’s voice called out, “Excuse me, I saw what you just did.”

I looked up to see her smiling, holding out a small paper bag. “I was going to give this to him, but I think you need it just as much.”

Inside was a fresh sandwich, a bottle of water, and a chocolate bar. My mouth watered at the sight. “Thank you,” I managed, barely able to believe my luck.

She nodded, her eyes kind. “Sometimes, kindness finds its way back to you.”

I took a deep breath, feeling warmth replace the hunger in my stomach. The last coin I’d given away had returned to me, multiplied, in ways I hadn’t expected.