Joe raised an eyebrow. "You hear that?"
"Yeah," I said, already on my feet.
We stepped out into the cold, the wind biting through our jackets. The sound was coming from near the station's front door. Joe spotted a basket, tucked in the shadows.
"No way," he muttered, rushing ahead.
A basket with a newborn | Source: Midjourney
Inside the basket was a tiny baby, wrapped in a threadbare blanket. His cheeks were red from the cold, his cries weak but steady.
"Holy…," Joe whispered. "What do we do?"
I crouched down, gently picking up the baby. He couldn't have been more than a few days old. His tiny hand curled around my finger, and something shifted inside me.
A firefighter gently cradling a newborn baby | Source: Midjourney
"We call CPS," Joe said firmly, though his voice softened as he looked at the baby.
"Yeah, of course," I replied, but I couldn't take my eyes off the little guy. He was so small, so fragile.
