The homeless man kept asking her to draw his card, but the last time, The Sun came up, and it changed his life forever.
The November wind blew through the bare trees of Washington Square Park, New York, bringing with it the bitter East Coast chill. Mia, 24, pulled up the collar of her secondhand wool coat, trying to keep her numb fingers warm. In front of her, on a cold stone table, was a frayed Rider-Waite Tarot deck.
Mia was not a professional “fortune teller.” She was just an unemployed sociology student who had turned to Tarot as a way to connect with strangers in this lonely city of 8 million. She spread the cards for free. “A question, a card, a smile” – that was the cardboard sign she placed beside her.
And then he came.
He always came at 4 p.m., when the weak sunlight began to fade behind the skyscrapers. A homeless man, about 60, with a messy gray beard and hazel eyes clouded by the wind. He wore three layers of old coats and a pair of mismatched sneakers – the left Nike, the right Adidas.
“Hello, girl,” he said, his voice hoarse but warm, placing a chestnut he had picked up on the table – his “fortune-telling fee.” “What does the universe say to old Arthur today?”
Mia smiled, taking the chestnut as if it were a gold coin. “Hello, Arthur. Let’s see.”
Arthur reached out with a cracked, blackened hand and pulled out a card.
Mia flipped the card over.
Five of Pentacles.
The image on the card showed two miserable, crippled figures walking through a snowstorm, passing a brightly lit church window but unable to enter. Symbols of poverty, loss, abandonment, and illness.
Mia sighed. “It’s him again, Uncle Arthur.”
Arthur laughed, a laugh that sounded like dry leaves cracking. “Well, at least this deck is honest. It knows I’m hungry and cold. Nothing new.”
That was the beginning of a strange series of days.
December came. Snow covered the park. Arthur drew a card. Five of Pentacles.
January was cold. Arthur shivered and drew a card. Five of Pentacles.
February was damp. Arthur coughed and drew a card. Five of Pentacles.
It became a curse, or a cruel joke of fate. Mia tried shuffling the deck hundreds of times. She even switched to a different deck. But Arthur’s calloused hands always found the same card.
“Maybe I’m destined to freeze to death under that oak tree,” Arthur said one day in February, looking at the card with no humor but sadness. “I used to be a history teacher, you know? Before my wife died, before the hospital bills swallowed up the house… I used to stand on the podium.”
Mia took his cold hand. “I believe that winters must pass, Uncle Arthur. There are 78 cards in this deck. It can’t always be Five of Coins.”
Arthur looked at her, his eyes gleaming faintly. Not because he believed in the card, but because of the warmth of the young girl’s hand.
It was a Tuesday in early April. New York had suddenly warmed strangely. The magnolias were beginning to bloom.
Mia was sitting in her usual spot when Arthur appeared. He looked worse than usual today. His face was gaunt, his lips were cracked and bleeding. He walked with a limp, as if his arthritic leg was aching terribly.
“One more time, girl?” Arthur sat down, panting. “I feel… different today. Maybe The Tower? Or Death?”
“Don’t be so unkind,” Mia scolded softly, fanning the deck. “Think of something bright. Think of… a hot meal. Or a soft bed.”
Arthur closed his eyes. He held out his hand, his fingers hovering over the colorful cards. He took a deep breath, then pulled one from the center.
Mia held her breath. She was afraid to see the two beggars in the blizzard again.
She turned the card.
A bright yellow caught their eyes.
Not the blizzard. Not the darkness.
It was The Sun. (XIX)
The most beautiful card in the Tarot deck. A naked child riding on a white horse, arms outstretched in joy under the bright sun. Sunflowers stretched high. A symbol of success, joy, fertility, and pure warmth.
Mia shouted, “Uncle Arthur! Look! It’s The Sun! The luckiest card!”
Arthur bent down to look at the card. His old eyes widened. He touched the image of the sun on the paper, as if he could feel its heat.
And then, he smiled.
It wasn’t his usual forced smile. It was a radiant smile, revealing his missing teeth and the deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. A smile of relief, of a childish hope that lit up the face of someone who had experienced so much bitterness.
“The sun…” Arthur whispered. “It’s so beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this warm.”
The moment only lasted a few seconds. Arthur put the card (Mia had given it to him) in his breast pocket, thanked her, and limped off toward the distribution area.
Mia watched him, her heart filled with joy. Little did she know that, 10 meters away, a camera lens had recorded everything.
t Math
Mia didn’t know anything until the next morning, when her phone blew up with thousands of notifications.
A friend sent her a TikTok link.
The video was posted by the account of “Street Souls NYC” – a nonprofit organization that specializes in telling stories about the homeless (similar to Humans of New York). They happened to be filming a documentary in the park yesterday and captured the moment Arthur flipped the card.
The video is 45 seconds long.
First 15 seconds: Arthur shaking and haggard as he draws the card.
Middle 15 seconds: Close-up of the brilliant The Sun card appearing.
Last 15 seconds: Arthur’s smile.
That smile is more powerful than any Hollywood blockbuster. It’s real, painful, and heartbreakingly beautiful. Soft piano music played in the background, along with the caption: “He pulled out the card of Hope after 6 months of despair. Look at that smile. Can we make this card come true?”
The video reached 15 million views overnight.
The hashtag #TheSunMan topped the top trending topics on Twitter (X).
The comments section was filled with love:
“I’m crying. He’s smiling like a child.”
“He was my History teacher at Brooklyn High School! Arthur! He was the best!”
“I want to donate. Does anyone have his information?”
Miracles don’t come from cards. Miracles come from the compassion of millions of strangers.
Within 48 hours, a GoFundMe page set up by Arthur’s former students raised $250,000. A Queens landlord offered him a studio apartment for free for two years. A local library offered him a job as a bookshelf arranger and history teacher for children.
Mia became the bridge. She and a team of volunteers went looking for Arthur. They found him sleeping under a subway bridge, clutching the laminated Sun card Mia had given him.
When Mia woke him up and showed him the donation, Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes. He cried. Tears rolled down his gray beard and onto the Sun card.
“Why?” he sobbed. “I’m just a useless old man…”
“Because you are the Sun, Arthur,” Mia hugged him. “You warmed people’s hearts with your smile.”
4. The Truth About the Card (Emotional Climax)
A month later.
Arthur – now neatly haircut, dressed in a neat tweed suit, looking exactly like his old teacher – invited Mia to his new apartment for dinner.
The room was small but cozy, filled with the smell of chicken soup and old books. On the bookshelf, the Sun card was framed solemnly.
They sat and ate, talking about history, about future plans. Arthur talked about the children at the library, his eyes shining with joy.
“Mia,” Arthur put down his spoon, his voice thoughtful. “I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“People on the internet say that Tarot card is magic. That the universe sent a signal to save me.”
Arthur looked at the framed Sun card.
“But I want you to know the truth. I have never believed in fortune-telling. I am a historian, I believe in facts, in evidence.”
Mia was surprised. “But… you come every day. You’re always nervous when you draw cards, aren’t you?”
Arthur smiled, a gentle smile.
“I didn’t come for the cards, Mia. I came for you.”
He reached for an old notebook on the table.
“Last winter, I was about to give up. I was about to… go to the Brooklyn Bridge and end it all. I was so cold, so lonely. My wife was dead, my children were gone, society had forgotten me.”
His voice trembled.
“But that afternoon, as I walked through the park, I saw you. You were sitting there, shivering in the cold wind, but you still smiled at everyone who passed by, even though no one stopped. And when you saw me—a dirty beggar—there was no contempt, no fear in your eyes. Only welcome.”
Arthur looked straight into Mia’s eyes.
“For the past six months, I’ve been drawing the Five of Pentacles – the card of poverty. I know it’s bad. But I keep coming back. Why? Because every time I draw it, you hold my hand. You comfort me. You look at me and say, ‘Tomorrow will be better, Uncle Arthur.'”
“I don’t need the Sun to see the sun,” Arthur put his hand on his heart. “My sun is your smile. Your patience in sitting and listening to an old man rambling every afternoon. It’s your kindness that makes me dare to believe that life is still warm, that makes me try to live another day, and another day… until luck smiles on me.”
Mia burst into tears. She always thought she was the one delivering the miracles through the cards, but it turned out she was the one receiving the biggest lesson.
“I thought I was helping you,” Mia sobbed.
“You literally saved my life long before that video came out,” Arthur affirmed.
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the lights of New York City.
“Tarot can predict the future, Mia. But only human compassion can create that future.”
Epilogue
The story of “The Sun Man” is not just about a house and a job. Arthur and Mia have founded a club together
a small series called “The Sun Card Project”.
Every weekend, in Washington Square Park, people see an old man and a young woman sitting at a stone table. But they don’t just read Tarot. They sit there to listen. Anyone – homeless, heartbroken, depressed – can come, draw a card, and receive a hot cup of coffee and a sincere conversation.
And no matter what card is drawn – pain or happiness – they all receive the real message that Arthur wants to convey:
No one is an island. And sometimes, miracles don’t need a wand, they just need a smile and a hand outstretched at the right time.
The Five of Pentacles is still in the deck, but it’s no longer scary. Because now, even in the snowstorm, the church doors are open, and there’s always light inside.
