James Patrik stood in front of Rideau Center holding a jersey. When people who are in wheel chairs enter the mall, he helps them by pushing the button to open the door for them.

“Ottawa Senators is one of my favorite ice hockey team. I used to enjoy watching their games with my friends, but unfortunately, most of them have moved to another city. I still remember the time when I saved money for a week to buy this jersey but I never wore it. I hung it on the wall, in a place that I could notice everyday. Ottawa is such a dead city. I’ve been standing here for over an hour but no one came and asked me “hey, how much is it?” I guess people don’t even know what I am doing right now.”

“Such a cool jersey with a brilliant design!” he said, raising the jersey.

“I used to be a writer. My mother inspired me when I was nine. She sang the song Crust Monster to me …” He imitated the voice of his mom and sang the whole song, “Ever since then, I’ve loved writing and I published some works.” He then lowered his head and heaved a sigh. “But I am broke. Being a writer is a hard labor work, which sometimes requires you to devote 16 hours a day to write words. But it means nothing if only a few people know you and buy your work. I am starting to feel like a victim, trapped by social and economic pressure. It becomes hard when I have to make some difficult choices like stop writing, or selling my favorite jersey.”

He still stood there and waited for someone who is also a fan of Senators to approach him and buy the jersey as soon as possible so he could go back early. His 92-year-old mom is waiting to have supper with him at home.

Author: Wang