“What are you doing? Noah! What is that?!”
He looked up.
Not annoyed. Not smug.
Calm. Steady.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “someone left this baby here. I couldn’t walk away.”
I stopped so fast I nearly slipped.
“Baby?” I croaked.
Then I saw clearly.
Not trash. Not clothes.
A newborn.
Tiny. Red-faced. Wrapped in a blanket that did almost nothing against the cold. No hat. Bare hands. His mouth opened and closed in weak, exhausted cries.
His entire body trembled.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “He’s freezing.”
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