The Video That Lit a Fire
I only learned what happened because our neighbor’s son filmed it. When Janet, our neighbor, showed me the footage, my hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone. There was Harold—my Harold—lying on the asphalt like a criminal, his vest soaked in sweat, his patches of honor ignored.
By the time I reached the scene, he was sitting on the curb, silent. His eyes avoided mine. That was when I knew the real damage wasn’t physical—it was inside him.
