Last month, our city endured one of the most intense heat waves anyone could remember. The temperature climbed well above normal for days, and even simple errands became exhausting. Streets that were usually filled with people were unusually quiet, while parks, sidewalks, and bus stops sat nearly empty beneath the relentless afternoon sun.
I had just finished work and was making the familiar walk home. My plan was simple: get inside, turn on a fan, and avoid the heat for the rest of the day. As I approached a small neighborhood bus stop, I noticed an elderly man sitting alone on the bench.
Something immediately caught my attention.
He wasn’t simply resting. His shoulders were slumped, his breathing looked uneven, and his shirt was soaked with sweat. His hands trembled as he wiped his forehead again and again, almost as if he were trying to stay focused. His face had become unusually pale despite the intense heat surrounding us.
I slowed down and started walking toward him.
“Sir, are you feeling alright?” I asked.
Before he could answer, his eyes suddenly rolled back, and he collapsed sideways onto the pavement.
For a second, everything around me seemed to freeze.
Then instinct took over.
I rushed to his side, carefully supported his head, and called out to him, hoping he would respond. Several people glanced in our direction as they passed by. A few slowed for a moment, but nobody stopped.
I searched for a bit of shade, using my own body to block some of the direct sunlight. I had a bottle of water in my backpack, and once he slowly regained consciousness, I carefully let him take a few small sips instead of drinking too quickly.
His breathing remained shallow.
