Everyday you had taken your lunch break from work to take food to the many homeless people in the area. The economy wasn't the best currently and with new management coming in to the apartment blocks, the rent changed, and people were forced onto the streets without anywhere to turn to gain employment. You were one of the lucky ones. You had a non-creative job, working in an office block. It wasn't the most enjoyable job, but it meant you could pay your rent, even if you needed two roommates to cover it, and have money to spare to assist those whom were less fortunate.

Usually you never saw anyone else helping people, but after a month or so of your daily visits you saw a man whom carried a video camera with him. He spoke to the men and women on the street, videoing them, but also sharing the lunch he was eating. It gave you hope in the world to see someone else helping the people whom needed it.

He was rather handsome, but you doubted he would want to talk to a strange woman on the street. As you went to leave the street to only think of the man whom you wished you could have spoken to, he lightly tapped on your shoulder, stopping you from going.

"I'm sorry Miss," he smiled softly. "Can I ask you some questions?"

You nodded your head, hoping that your cheeks were becoming as crimson as you thought they were from the warmth you felt.

"Um... of course."

"Is it okay if I film you?" He asked.

Once again you nodded.

"Are you passing through or are you here specifically to feed the homeless?" He questioned.

"To give people food and water and warm clothes in the winter," you stated.

He continued to ask you questions about why you were there and your experiences in helping people whom were less fortunate than yourself. You didn't mind answering the questions, however as the questions ended you did wonder what they were for.

"May I ask what you are filming for?" You asked.

"Oh... I'm making a documentary," he explained.

"For a company or yourself?"

"Myself."

You gave him a gentle smile. He seemed sweet and as though he cared about others. He didn't wear overly nice clothes, dressing rather shabbily in garments that had clearly been repaired so you couldn't imagine he was the most well of person either.

"What's your name? It'll be nice to say I knew the creator when your documentary becomes famous," you smiled, hoping to compliment him.

"Mark... Mark Cohen," he chuckled. "I doubt it'll become anything but at least I can dream. What's your name?"

"Y/N Y/S/N."

~*~

Written by Charlotte.

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