Through the fogged glass, barely visible beneath the streetlight, sat an elderly man in a wheelchair. He was hunched forward, rain soaking through his thin jacket, his hands shaking uncontrollably as water streamed down his face. There was no car nearby. No one calling his name. Just him, alone in the storm, like someone had left him there and erased him from the world.
Elena’s heart dropped straight into her stomach.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
She didn’t stop to think. She yanked the door open, the rain slicing against her face like needles as she rushed toward him.
“Sir?” she said, crouching beside the wheelchair. “Can you hear me?”
The man lifted his head slowly, as if even that small movement took effort. His eyes were unfocused, his lips tinged blue, his breathing shallow and uneven. He tried to speak, but the sound that came out was broken, incomplete.
That was all Elena needed.
“No, no,” she said, already gripping the handles of the chair. “You’re not staying out here.”