If other scavengers found him, they’d steal the watch.
If the wrong men came later… he might not live long enough to miss it.
“It doesn’t matter who you are right now,” she said, slipping under his arm and trying to lift him. “What matters is getting you out of here.”
He was far too heavy, but somehow she managed.
Step by step they moved through narrow paths between mountains of garbage—hidden trails only a child like Emily knew.
“What’s your name?” he asked between strained breaths.
“Emily.”
“Thank you, Emily.”
She didn’t answer. She was too focused on keeping him from falling.
By the time they reached the edge of the landfill, night had begun swallowing the city. The distant lights of Phoenix shimmered like unreachable stars for people living on its forgotten edges.
They walked through dusty streets. Skinny dogs barked as they passed. Curtains shifted as curious neighbors peeked out.
“Do you think I’m a criminal?” the man asked suddenly, his voice filled with childlike worry.
Emily looked up at him.
“Criminals don’t look scared,” she said simply. “And you’re scared. So I think you’re probably a good person with big problems.”
They reached a tiny house at the end of a narrow alley.
It was made of patched wood and corrugated metal—small, humble, but clean. A warm light glowed through the cracks in the door.
“Grandma, it’s me,” Emily called as she pushed it open. “I brought someone.”
Rose Parker, sitting at the table mending clothes with old reading glasses on her nose, looked up—and froze when she saw the stranger.
“Emily… what did you do?”
The man collapsed onto the worn sofa.
Rose approached slowly, examining him. The ruined expensive suit. The gold watch. The soft hands unused to labor. The deep wound on his head.
“I found him in the landfill,” Emily explained. “He doesn’t remember anything.”
Rose closed her eyes briefly, torn between caution and compassion.
Then she sighed.
“We barely have enough for ourselves, and now you bring me a half-dead man,” she grumbled—but she was already boiling water.
She cleaned the wound with steady hands.
“Ma’am,” the man said weakly, “when I remember who I am… I’ll repay you.”
Rose chuckled dryly.
“Promises from rich men aren’t worth much in this neighborhood. And you look either rich… or in serious trouble.”
Emily served him a bowl of beans and tortillas. Rose gave him the largest portion.
They ate in silence.