« Help. »
Both boys stopped in their tracks, scanning the roadside. That’s when they saw an elderly man lying crumpled near the edge of the slope, one trembling hand raised weakly toward the sky.
« Oh my God! » Stuart dropped his backpack and ran. Dylan was right behind him.
They found the man surrounded by broken eggshells and a puddle of spilled milk. A canvas grocery bag lay torn beside him, its contents scattered across the dirt and grass.
« Sir, are you okay? Can you hear me? » Dylan knelt beside him, his voice urgent but calm.
The man’s eyes fluttered open. « I… I fell. »
« Here, drink this. » Stuart unscrewed his water bottle and carefully lifted the man’s head, tilting the bottle to his lips.
The elderly man took a few grateful sips, then coughed. « Thank you, boys. My name is Michael, and… and I’m afraid I’ve made quite a mess of things. »
« What happened? » Stuart asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
« I was walking home from the store when I suddenly felt dizzy. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling down this slope. » Michael tried to push himself up but winced in pain. « I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been here. Maybe an hour? Could be more. »
