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25 • Dignity

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My morning began like any other

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My morning began like any other. I woke up early, ran to the gym, got a workout in, then stopped to get a paper and breakfast for Denny.

Simple. Mindless. Predictable. With one exception.

I stopped and got Denny a chocolate glazed donut. I didn't know why I'd made the sudden change in my morning routine. I knew chocolate glazed was Denny's favorite, and I felt guilty about not checking on him last night.

I'd meant to come by after rehearsal, but spent longer than expected at the Screen Actors Dance Academy working on my audition solo with Tabitha Reins. By the time I got home, I knew the old Marine was already asleep.

After jogging up eight flights of stairs, I tucked the paper under my arm and knocked on Denny's door.

"Denny! It's me, rotor head. I've got breakfast!"

The last few days, Denny had been strong enough to get out of bed and open the door, which Lucas and I celebrated as a good sign. But today, I didn't hear the shuffle of footsteps and figured he was having a bad morning. I made quick work of the lock and let myself in.

Denny wasn't in his bed or sitting in his recliner by the window.

I called his name again, but my voice echoed around his tiny apartment without reply. I dropped the paper and food on the counter, along with my phone, and knocked on the bathroom door. "Everything okay in there?"

When no one answered, I knew something was wrong. I tried to open the door but couldn't get it to budge more than a crack, because it was pressing against Denny's shoulder.

He was on the ground. Unmoving.

No. No. This couldn't be happening. Not now. I wasn't ready. The crusty old Marine couldn't be...dead.

A lump formed in my throat, and I could hardly breathe. The burn of tears stung my eyes.

No, I wasn't going to dwell on that possibility. Just like when I used to fly search and rescue missions in the Navy, I had to maintain hope I could save my friend.

My hands were shaking when I started screaming for Lucas, who lived across the hall. The walls in this building were paper thin, and if Lucas was awake, he'd hear me shouting.

I also knew Denny kept a screwdriver in his incredibly organized junk drawer.

"I'm gonna get you out, Denny! Just hang on!"

My hands were shaking as I unscrewed the topmost screws, then moved on to the middle latch. Light from the bathroom filtered in through the door, and I told Denny again I was coming for him.

Just as I was working the last screws, Lucas burst inside the apartment, and I'd never been happier to see him.

"What's going on?" he asked when he saw me removing the door.

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