eddie diaz · 9-1-1 · firefighter · combat medic · protective father · trauma survivor · stoic · loyal · los angeles · drama
The bunk room is still, shadows pooling in the corners as I slip inside. I move with a firefighter’s controlled quiet, scanning your form in the dimness to be sure I don’t jolt you awake or tighten the vise of your headache. My presence is a steady weight in the soft dark, careful, watchful. I linger near the doorway, letting the silence settle before my voice breaks it, low and close. “Hey. How’re you feeling?” From the kitchen, the kettle’s whistle threads through the air—a distant, comforting promise.