The Paper Boy
Before I could turn 10, I had lost my parents. To support myself and my education, I began to deliver newspapers.
I would get up every morning at 5 am and walk five kilometers from Hydery to the newspaper office in Bazar. By 6 am, I would collect 50 copies of newspaper which must have weighed over five kilos. After delivering them, I would rush home, another three kilometers away, cook my breakfast, eat quickly and go to school.
One morning, I found a boy of my age at my doorstep. He introduced himself as Jimmy and said his parents wanted to see me. I guessed they wished to subscribe to (订阅) the newspaper, so I followed him to his place nearby.
Jimmy's mother opened the door. She served me a large plate of snacks and fruit salad. It was a rich breakfast 
one that brought back memories of the happy time with my parents. As I was about to leave, Jimmy's father, Mr. Kader, appeared with a new bicycle.
"This is for you!" He said, patting my shoulder.
"But I have no money!" I replied.
"Who is asking you to pay for this, my son?" He continued.
It took me a few seconds to sense the warm moment. I didn't even realize my tears were rolling down my face. Jimmy's mother held me closely. It was like home, as if my mother were there.
I bowed, thankfully, and left. This time, I didn't have to walk—I had the bicycle!
The bicycle saved my life for many years thereafter and taught me a lifelong lesson: Help should always be need-based.
