The city lights are bright and vibrant, the civilians that passed were all in a joyous and blissful mood, many of them hand in hand with their partners or children or both. Jubilant laughter is consistently in the air all evening as everyone is stoked about the new year that was approaching in a few hours, hoping it will be filled with all the good things life has to offer.
But not everyone has such hope. A mere 20 feet away from the busy plaza sits a young boy of around 18 years, perched on a picnic table, knees up to his chest and arms around them, a futile attempt to shield himself from the biting wind---wondering why all good and beautiful things are preordained for some and not for others? Why must he live like this while others live a life of luxury? Why can't he have a normal life like the kids on TV?
He had such big plans for his life; plans to escape his war and poverty stricken home country; plans to cross the sea in a boat; plans to start afresh and prosper in a new environment; a European environment. He thought crossing the Mediterranean sea was the hard and tricky part. But unbeknownst to him, the real challenge lies in the already overwhelmed refugee system that constantly makes international headlines. He applied for housing and financial aid but nothing has been forthcoming for him. He's been here in this southern Greek city for almost 3 months, sleeping out in the open for 1 of them. He used to live at a refugee camp a few miles away but the chaotic environment was too much for him to bear any longer. A motel was a temporary solution but what good is it if you're constantly spending large chunks of money without any coming back to you? That's how this picnic table became his home for the time being. All of his funds are now depleted, spending his last 10 euros on a meal from a fast food joint a few days ago. One thing about him though, he never denies himself anything. He lives in the now and deals with the then when it happens.
But it's been almost three days since his last meal and he is very much starving. Hungry to the extent that he cannot stand on his feet too long without feeling weak and lethargic.
Also unbeknownst to him is the tall, lithe man that lie in wait 30 paces away in the shadows of an unlit area. He crouches behind a large oak tree, his dark clothing granting him the ability to blend into the gloomed surroundings, so much so that people passed inches away from him without knowing he was there. The man eyes the boy the way a lion eyes a deer, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Like the lad in front of him, he too wonders why some people suffer while others prosper. The world goes on as though the humanitarian problems many people face today are nonexistent. He wants to rid the world of all suffering, help people in anyway he can. But like all humans, he has a flaw. You see, he has a kind, giving heart; but he's only willing to give unless he gets something in return. Something that only a young man can provide. Like the beautiful one that's sitting on the bench in front of him. He emerges from the darkness and walks towards his oblivious prey.
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There's only so much a tummy full of water can do. It may numb the feeling of hunger for a while, but that feeling will always come back. The young boy sighs, longing for a bite to eat, almost tempted to snatch a passer's by dinner and run with it. But even if he were able to snatch it, he won't be able to run for so long for he felt so lightheaded. A few leaps and he'd faint. It's not long before he hears a shuffling movement behind him. He looks back and sees a tall man standing behind him, hands in his jacket pockets looking straight ahead as though the boy is not there. The man sits on the bench, on the same side as the boy and looks over at him and says hello.
"You speak English?"
"Where are you from?"
"Where's your family?"
The boy does not respond, not because he doesn't know the English language, but he just wants to be left alone. The boy rolls his eyes and is on the verge of cursing at the man. Tired of his silly questions when he asks "are hungry boy?"
The man 100% knows the young man is famished. He stalked him for days, watching from different vantage points like the coffee shop across the street, or from his office in the high rise building adjacent to the river. Observing and analyzing. Not once during those three days did he see the youngster eat a meal, head either buried in his phone or his hands. Watching him take the occasional stroll to the public water fountain to quench his thirst or to the nearby restroom to relieve himself. The lad casts a curious glance his way----
He knew the boy was beautiful even though he eyed him from a distance at times, but now that he's next to him, in the flesh, he's in awe at his striking features. His skin is as smooth as butter. His wavy light brown hair is down to his shoulders lengthwise, secured in tight knot with a yellow rubber band. A few loose strands of hair hang down the side of his head; too short to stretch so far back. His dark, thick eyebrows, the type most women would envy sit a top a pair of hooded eyelids, playing host to a pair of green eyes. A bit lower and a crooked nose comes into sight, maybe as a result of childhood squabbling or a falling accident of some sort. A smattering of freckles rests there, as well as on the area directly beneath both eyes, and the man immediately wonders where else on his body freckles might be. His full lips are a bit chapped due to the cool air.
"Oh, so you do speak English. I tell you what, I am ordering dinner and you are very welcome to join me. You can have---ehhh---nice warm shower and warm clothes also. I live---ehhhh very short distance away." Says the stranger, his accent thick and heavy.
The man gets up and begins to walk away, turning to see if the boy is following but he's still sitting on the bench. "I will not harm you, I just want to help you."
The young man knows he's in no position to pass up such a generous offer, but said offer might be a bit too generous. He's not naive to think the man will want nothing in return. Most humans always have ulterior motives. He regards the man for a long while, says a silent prayer to Allah to guide and protect him, and stands, and stretches. He takes up his packet of special things which holds his passport, phone and charger, application forms, a few family photos and his birth certificate. He walks the few steps to meet the man where he stood and together, they walked the short distance to his apartment.
They reach the entrance to the building, and head straight for the elevator that's off to the right. A short flight up and they get off, turn left, and in a few steps, they reach the man's apartment. He takes his card, swipes it through the machine and the door immediately opens.
"After you" he says, gesturing with his hands the way inside.
The boy moves pass him, finding himself shrouded in darkness for a few seconds before hearing a click and the lights turn on. He stoops down to untie his shoes and takes them off while the man hangs his jacket on the rack.
"You go take shower, and I will---eh---get you clean clothes---and order dinner. The bathroom is down the hall, and the second door on the right, towels are in the---uhhh second drawer. Toothbrush in top drawer. Shower gel is in the white bottle, shampoo in the green bottle. Stay as long as you like. Oh you aren't---how do you say---you eat meat right?"
The boy nods.
"Go on, dinner will be here when you return."
He goes to the bathroom, strip and examines himself in the mirror for a while. His eyes look extremely haggard with some bags underneath. He takes the rubber band out of his hair, and runs his hand through the mane a couple of times. His once slightly chubby stomach that he was so accustomed to is now relatively flat. His waist looks slimmer, his thighs a bit leaner. And it's only after he took his clothes off that he really got a whiff of how he actually smells. Horrid. He sighs and steps in the shower; performs his ablutions, spending extra time with washing his hair.
He emerges, grabs a towel and in the midst of drying off, he hears a soft knock at the door. He loosely wraps the towel around himself and calls out:
