Later that night, back in the quiet of a small apartment, the reflection in the mirror didn't show a person with superpowers or a costume. It showed someone tired, with soaked clothes and messy hair. There was no sudden feeling of being powerful, but there was a sense of no longer being invisible to the world.
The woman who had been rescued gripped the hand of the person who had pulled her out. "Thank you," she whispered. "That was incredibly brave." I Am a Hero
Then I heard it—the screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal. Later that night, back in the quiet of
As paramedics took over and the scene became crowded with emergency responders, the individual who had intervened stood on the edge of the chaos, shivering in the cold rain. When a bystander asked how it felt to be a hero, the answer was simple: "Just someone who happened to be there." The woman who had been rescued gripped the
The rear door groaned but popped open. The figure inside the car was pulled to safety just as a small flame appeared under the hood. On the sidewalk, as sirens grew louder in the distance, the reality of the situation began to set in.
My legs moved before my brain gave the order. I wasn't thinking about bravery; I was thinking about the person I could see slumped over the steering wheel.