By the time the sun rise, Thabiso was already awake.
Not because he wanted to be—but because hunger doesn't let you sleep for long.
His stomach tightened as he rolled over on the thin mattress. The last of the bread was gone. He had stretched it as far as he could, but now there was nothing left.
Low cash had turned into no cash.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face. The notebook lay open beside him, pages filled with messy writing from the night before. Plans. Numbers. Ideas.
Dreams trying to look like strategy.
He picked it up again, scanning what he had written.
**Printing machine – ± R2,500 (used?)**
**Paper stock – R300**
**Electricity – problem**
**Location – school? taxi rank?**
He shook his head. Even his cheapest plan needed money he didn't have.
Still… it felt better than doing nothing.
A soft sound came from the door.
His mother.
She stepped in quietly, removing her shoes like she didn't want to wake him—too late for that.
"Morning, mama," Thabiso said.
She turned, slightly surprised. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep."
She studied his face for a moment. Mothers always knew when something was off.
"You didn't eat, neh?"
He hesitated. "I'm okay."
She didn't believe him, but she didn't argue either. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small plastic container.
"I brought this from work," she said, placing it on the table.
Thabiso opened it. Pap and a little bit of stew.
Not much—but enough.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
She nodded, then sat down heavily on the chair. The exhaustion in her eyes was impossible to hide.
"Work is getting harder," she said. "New people. More houses. Same money."
Thabiso clenched his jaw.
This was exactly what he didn't want.
"Mama," he said, "you won't have to do this forever."
She gave a small smile. "You always say that."
"And I mean it."
"I know," she replied gently. "Just… don't rush into the wrong things trying to fix everything."
That sentence hit him directly.
Kabelo.
The "opportunity."
He looked away. "I won't."
She stood up, adjusting her headscarf. "I'm going to sleep a bit before I go again later."
Thabiso nodded as she walked to the bed.
He sat there alone, staring at the food. Then he ate slowly, forcing himself to think.
He couldn't stay like this.
Not for another week. Not even for another day.
He grabbed his phone again, even though he knew there was no data. He opened old messages, scrolling through contacts.
Names of people who once believed in him.
Names of people who now probably thought he was all talk.
He stopped at one.
**Sizwe – Print Shop**
An old connection. Sizwe owned a small printing shop near the taxi rank. Thabiso had once helped him with small things—design ideas, customer handling, even fixing a small issue with his computer.
Maybe…
Just maybe.
Without overthinking it, Thabiso stood up.
"I'm going out," he said softly, even though his mother was already asleep.
The streets were alive again by the time he stepped outside. Morning hustle. People rushing. Taxis hooting. Vendors setting up.
Energy.
Movement.
Opportunity.
He walked fast, like slowing down would give doubt a chance to catch him.
The taxi rank wasn't far, but it felt like a different world. Noise, chaos, money moving everywhere.
And right there, between a barber container and a cellphone repair stall, was the small shop.
**Sizwe Prints & Copies**
Thabiso paused for a second, then stepped inside.
The familiar smell of paper and ink hit him instantly.
Sizwe stood behind the counter, focused on a machine.
"Morning," Thabiso said.
Sizwe looked up, surprised. "Thabiso? Yoh, long time."
"Yeah… it's been a while."
Sizwe nodded slowly, studying him. "You look… stressed."
Thabiso laughed lightly. "That obvious?"
"In this life? Always."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Thabiso went straight to it. "I need an opportunity."
Sizwe leaned against the counter. "What kind?"
"Work. Anything. Even small things."
Sizwe sighed. "It's not easy right now. Business is slow. Everyone is struggling."
"I understand," Thabiso said quickly. "But I can help. I know this place. I know how it runs."
Sizwe looked at him carefully.
"You used to say you wanted your own thing," he said.
"I still do."
"Then why are you here?"
Thabiso didn't hesitate. "Because I need to start somewhere."
That answer seemed to land.
Sizwe nodded slowly. "Hmm."
He walked over to the machine and tapped it lightly. "This one's been giving me problems."
Thabiso stepped closer. "What kind of problems?"
"It jams. Sometimes it doesn't print properly. I was thinking of replacing it, but…" He shrugged.
"Money," Thabiso said.
"Exactly."
Thabiso smiled slightly. "Let me take a look."
For the next few minutes, he focused completely. Opening panels, checking rollers, adjusting parts.
This was different.
This wasn't dreaming.
This was doing.
"Try it now," Thabiso said.
Sizwe pressed a button.
The machine hummed… then printed smoothly.
Clean.
Perfect.
Sizwe's eyes widened slightly. "Yoh."
Thabiso stepped back. "Just needed cleaning and alignment."
Sizwe shook his head, impressed. "You always had this skill, man."
Thabiso shrugged. "I just never had the chance to use it properly."
There was a pause.
Then Sizwe made a decision.
"Okay," he said. "You can come help here. Not full-time. Not big money. But something."
Thabiso felt a small wave of relief. "That's all I need."
"You'll handle customers, basic printing, maybe small fixes like this," Sizwe continued. "I'll pay you per day."
"How much?"
"R100… for now."
It wasn't much.
But it was more than zero.
"I'll take it," Thabiso said immediately.
Sizwe nodded. "Start now."
Just like that, things shifted.
The next few hours flew by. Customers came in—students, workers, people needing copies of IDs, CVs, documents.
Thabiso worked nonstop.
Printing.
Helping.
Talking.
Moving.
For the first time in a long time, he felt… useful.
But as the day went on, something else crept in.
Comparison.
He watched the money exchange hands.
R10 here. R20 there. R50 for bigger jobs.
Money flowing—but not his.
Not fully.
And then, just as things started to slow down, a familiar face appeared at the door.
Kabelo.
He stepped inside, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the place.
"Well, well," he said. "Look at you."
Thabiso frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?"
Kabelo smirked. "I told you… opportunities don't wait."
Sizwe glanced between them. "You guys know each other?"
"Yeah," Kabelo said. "We go way back."
He turned back to Thabiso. "So this is the plan now? R100 a day?"
Thabiso's jaw tightened. "It's a start."
Kabelo leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Or you could make that in one hour."
Silence.
The machine hummed softly in the background.
Customers chatted outside.
Life moved.
But in that moment, everything felt still.
Two paths.
One safe.
One fast.
Thabiso looked at Kabelo.
Then at the shop.
Then at his hands.
Low cash.
But now… he had a choice.
And choices?
They come with consequences.