Collins?… no way. Not you.” I said that as soon as I read the address. I hadn’t seen Collins in a while, but I never forgot what he did for me. When I was eight, my home caught fire while I was hiding under a bed. Smoke filled the room fast, and I passed out. Collins carried me down three flights while the building shook around us. My mom had to stay under care for months, and with no family ready to take me, I was placed in a center. Collins came almost every day. He checked on my bandages, brought small things to keep me busy, and talked to me like I mattered. As I grew up, he stayed steady. School events, birthday calls, quick visits—he always found a way to show up. I chose this uniform because of the example he set. He gave me direction when life felt heavy. Today, when I reached his yard, Collins was on the ground, trying to stay alert. I got him steady, and he gripped my wrist with what strength he had. Only then did my chest finally loosen.
