Five years ago, I found a newborn abandoned at my fire station and made him my son. Just as our life together felt complete, a woman appeared at my door, trembling with a plea that turned my world upside down.
The wind howled that night, rattling the windows of Fire Station #14. I was halfway through my shift, sipping lukewarm coffee, when Joe, my partner, walked in. He had that usual smirk on his face.
A firefighter drinking coffee | Source: Midjourney
“Man, you’re gonna drink yourself into an ulcer with that sludge,” he teased, pointing at my cup.
It’s caffeine. It works. Don’t ask for miracles,” I shot back, grinning.
Joe sat down, flipping through a magazine. Outside, the streets were quiet, the kind of eerie calm that keeps firefighters on edge. That’s when we heard a faint cry, barely audible over the wind.
