Marcus

• Cayley Savage, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

His name was Marcus. I saw him on the crowded streets of Aramore many times. He was always there, drinking his cup of coffee, at Café Diem. Every-time I went into the city, he was there, reading a different page in the newspaper every time. I was a reporter, and every time I went to deliver my newest article to the ‘Aramore Times’ printing company, there he was, reading the article I had written the week before. Marcus always distracted me. Every time, I wondered if he would be there, and every time, he was. For a while, I didn’t know his name, until I decided to ask one of my colleagues. I didn’t want to sound crazy, so I tried to sound like I was making normal conversation. “Hey, have you ever noticed that man who sits at Café Diem? He’s always there!” “Oh yes, Marcus! He’s a lovely man. I’ve bought him a coffee twice,” she had told me. Bought him a coffee? I was just about to question this, but she had already turned away from me. The whole thing was quite peculiar, and being a reporter, my inquisitive side came out. I decided that next week, when I had my work lunch, I would go and talk to Marcus. The week slowly rolled by, and by Wednesday, I couldn’t take it anymore. My lunch was on Sunday, but I was busting to know why Marcus was always there. It was odd, but I just had to know. I drove to the city, determined to get to Café Diem as soon as possible. As usual, he was sitting in a green plastic chair, reading my article. I slowly approached the table. “Excuse me sir?” I said, uncomfortably. The old man looked up from the paper. “Hello! Please sit!” I was surprised by his friendliness and pulled up a chair. “I really don’t want to sound rude, but I have a question for you,” I said. His wrinkled face smiled at me, “Shoot!” he said. “If I may ask, why are you always sitting here? On many occasions I’ve seen you sitting here, and I just wondered…” He cut me off, hysterically laughing. “My dear, I am homeless! One of the only things that brings me joy in life, is this article, written by a Miss C Savage! It is the only good newspaper article I’ve read in thirty years!” Inside, my heart jumped at the mention of my name, and at the same time broke for him. It turns out, that Marcus had been living on the streets for many years, and people paid for his coffee, in exchange for some advice, or just someone to talk to. Of course, that was at least two years ago. The people of Aramore had put their heads together and paid for Marcus to live in an apartment. I now own the ‘Aramore Times,’ but I still see Marcus. He still talks to me, and he still reads the newspaper.