The river behind the factory was gray, forgotten, and frozen just enough to seem solid. Son was taking the long way home, headphones in, backpack heavy, when he noticed a splash at the ice’s edge. A dog’s head burst through a crack, panicked and struggling.
Heart racing, Son crawled onto the thin ice, spreading his weight, inching closer. The dog thrashed, claws raking his sleeve, cold water biting at his skin. “Easy… I’ve got you,” he whispered, gripping the dog as both teetered on the fragile surface.
With a final, desperate pull, he dragged the dog fully onto the ice. Both heaving, soaked, trembling, they paused. The dog leaned into him, finally still.
When help arrived, they wrapped the dog in blankets, but Son stayed a moment longer, realizing that for the first time, the river—once ignored—had mattered. One choice, one second, had made all the difference
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