Hope for the Homeless Children

Part Three (FINAL)

The little girl remained in the seat, even sleeping in it overnight, not leaving the shop. The man remained there, ever still mumbling. She listened to him as she fell asleep, sleeping much better each day that passed, better than she had slept than on the streets. She continued to listen to him, looking at the passing children who all hurried away from the man out of fear, hearing what all others heard: meaningless words. She started to worry, thinking that perhaps she would be here forever, considering none of the children stopped and listened. She started to worry for the man, that he'd be lonely if no one stayed with him, so she remained. She remained, staying seated, the smile she previously wore still there, smiling along, kicking her feet back and forth to the rhythm that she knew only she could hear from the man as of now. However, ever so suddenly, a homeless boy, much older than herself, and much older than the other boy, arrived. He listened to the man with his mouth agape. He must have been at least fourteen years of age, but he sat down next to the girl, who had been around six years of age. He looked down to the girl, then smiled as he listened. She smile back, then turned back to the man staring outside of the coffee shop window, sitting in the same spot, the same table, the same position, still murmuring the ever many jumbled words he had been speaking. The young girl, however, like the previous boy, stood from her seat. The boy asked where she was to go. She said that she was leaving, and for him to pass on the man's song for another homeless child who passes by to give them hope or more. And so, with that, the girl left. She left him alone with the man. The boy, however, did not feel sad. Instead, he was happy with the man's song, a song only the homeless children can hear. A song that gave hope to the homeless children, a song that gave them the ability to persist through the worst, as something good will come later in life. And so, homeless children of all ages came and went, came and went, each listening to the man's song, telling the next to pass it on, and so they did. For many years, the homeless children did this until the man's end. He was buried where he died, right in the coffee shop. At the same table. In the same chair. In the same position. His lips only slightly so ajar from each other, as though he were mumbling. To this day, it is said that homeless children have passed by, saying they could hear a beautiful song running through the air spoken by the voice of a man, but no one believed them. All they were reminded of was the man who once sat in a coffee shop, staring out of a window, murmuring jumbled words of nothingness.