Every morning, just before dawn, James—though that’s not his real name—laces up his worn-out shoes and begins his five-mile walk to work. His day starts at 6 a.m., giving him just enough time to make the journey and be at work for half eight. He can’t afford the bus fare, so he relies on his feet to carry him to the job that pays just enough to cover his rent. In the summer, the walk is almost pleasant—the early morning air is cool, the birds sing, and the rising sun gradually warms his back. He takes in the quiet streets, finding some solace in the routine, knowing that the light, at least, is free.
It wasn’t always this way. James used to have a bike, a second-hand one he managed to buy after saving up for months. It cut his journey time in half, and on days when he was particularly tired, it made all the difference. But then, one day, the bike was stolen, snatched from where he’d chained it up outside his flat. Now, with his wages stretched thin, he can’t afford to replace it. The loss of that bike still stings—a reminder of how fragile his situation is.
As the seasons change, the walk becomes harder. The crisp autumn air soon turns into biting winter winds, and the sun seems reluctant to rise. On the coldest mornings, James pulls his thin coat tighter around himself, but it does little to keep the chill at bay. When it rains, his shoes soak through, leaving his feet cold and numb by the time he arrives at work. He endures, because he has no choice—his rent is due, and every penny counts.
Winter also brings higher costs. The money James manages to save in the warmer months dwindles quickly as he needs to heat his small flat. The price of everything seems to rise, but his wages remain the same. He finds himself cutting back on what little he already has—skipping meals, turning the heating down, and layering up to keep warm. The daily walk, once just a necessity, now feels like a battle, each step a reminder of the thin line he walks between getting by and falling behind.
And then, to make it worse, there’s the knowledge that after a long day’s work, he still has to walk those same five miles back home. On the hardest days, it’s that thought that weighs on him the most. His feet already sore, his body tired, and the cold creeping in deeper with every step. Sometimes, he gets lucky—a co-worker might offer him a lift, sparing him the long trek home. Those days feel like a small mercy, a break from the relentless grind.
But more often than not, it’s just him and the pavement again, the miles stretching out in front of him as he makes his way home. The journey is long, the days are hard, but James—whatever his real name might be—keeps going, because he knows that as long as he makes it to work, there’s hope for another day.
