Jeremiah Walkin was by no means wealthy with money, but he was prosperous in heart.


He owned Walkin industries, a company he had built from the floor up. The purpose of the company was to buy, trade, and sell, the newest and greatest stocks on the market. A risky, but high paying business.


Jeremiah strolled to work every day of his life, he always loved the feel of the sun on his skin, and the smell of the fresh Minnesota air. During his commute he would greet the friendly faces, and welcome the others. One fateful day he happened to leave his home early, so he decided to take the scenic route to his workplace.


He saw a crowd up ahead, there was lots of ruckus. As he approached he could see they were yelling at a particular person, a homeless man. Typically the homeless community didn't beg in that area of town, they were notorious for being ruthless.


Jeremiah couldn't stand for this. He pushed through to the center of the crowd and picked up the man, he brought him to a nearby cafe and bought him breakfast.

“I'm sorry they did that too you, you didn't deserve that. No one does.”

“Thank you sir, I really appreciate it. More than you know.”


They were silent as they ate, and for once in a long time, the homeless man's stomach was filled. As he was getting up to go, intent not to bother the generous angel that helped him, he was asked to sit back down.

“What is your name?”

“Alan sir, Alan Shangley”

“Well Alan Shangley, why don't you follow me back to my home, and we'll get you cleaned up.”

“No sir, I could neve-”

“I don't want to hear it, I'm asking you to come to my house and clean yourself up, in fact you might have a job interview in a few hours, you want to look your best.”


An hour later, Alan looked like an entirely new man. Ready to take on the world. A new suit and tie, a clean body and hair, even new shoes to help him stand tall.


Later that day he was hired into the Walkin industries family.



During the next 8 months, he moved out of Jeremiah's house, and also moved on to other opportunities. He had lost contact with Jeremiah.


Jeremiah's life although, wasn't as pleasant. In fact it was a steep downhill slope shortly after Alan left the company. A fire had completely ravaged Jeremiah's business, and everything he had worked for. He was forced to sell his house back to the banks, getting no money back from it.


He was hopeless. He had nothing left.


He sat outside where his business used to stand, a wrinkled cardboard slab in hand. It read “anything helps”. The faces he used to greet every day were no longer familiar, or friendly for that matter.


They began to hassle him, screaming at him to go back into the hole he came out of. Jeremiah was no longer welcome. They began to crowd, an uproar. They were throwing things, beating him even. The police would never act on it though, they were just as corrupt.


Just as Jeremiah thought he was going to die, from a combination of malnourishment and wounds, they stopped. The crowd ceased. Jeremiah looked up and saw an outreached hand, and perhaps the only familiar face left in the world.

“Hey pal.”