Chapter 2: The Photograph
— PART 2 —
She told me my husband had saved her life.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't stand.
Brad crouched beside me on that cold floor, his hand on my back, and I couldn't even look at him.
"What do you mean?" I finally managed.
The woman wiped her eyes.
Her name was Dana.
Seven years ago, she said, she had been trapped in a burning car on a highway overpass.
No one stopped.
No one even slowed down.
Brad stopped.
He pulled her out through the window with his bare hands.
She said she remembered the tattoos on his arms — vivid, unmistakable — as he carried her away from the flames.
"He told me not to look back," Dana whispered.
"Then he disappeared before the ambulance arrived.
I never got his name.
I never got to thank him."
I looked up at Brad.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes were red.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked.
He was quiet for a long moment.
"Because I didn't do it for a story," he said softly.
"I did it because she needed someone."
Dana reached into her bag and pulled out something I never expected to see.
A photograph.
And the moment I saw what was in it, my tears came back — but for a completely different reason.
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What was in that photograph — and why did it make everything even more emotional?
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