Charitable souls

They were sponsored to fast for twenty-four hours. I was sponsored to walk back and forth across the Humber Bridge. I don’t recall what their cause was, but I sponsored them anyway. Mine was for Christian Aid Week.

When they came to collect their sponsorship money from me, they refused to say thank you. I didn’t mind, but our tutor told them off. It’s funny: other people could see exactly what was going on, but not me. I had been blinded by my good opinion of everybody, thinking them justified in however they behaved.

It’s so strange to think about it now — all that subsequently came to pass as a result of my runaway heart — for everything was as clear as day. I was hated. Held in complete contempt. Despised. But still, those that despised me asked me to sponsor them, and so I did, expecting nothing in return.

If they ever came across me again, I suspect they would be rather surprised to discover that I myself have fasted annually for the past twenty-four years. Sometimes I wonder if they planted that seed in my heart. Maybe they did; who knows? They were charitable souls, it seemed to me. May they be rewarded for their good deeds.

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