“The Morning the Sirens Came to Say Thank You”

“Can I… can I really do that?” he asked, looking at the pile of uniforms.

Miller smiled. Not the hard smile of a cop—but something softer. Human.

“We were hoping you would,” he said. “Every one of those shirts belonged to someone who served. Some of them… didn’t make it home either.”

Mason looked down at his hands.

The same hands that had stitched twenty bears in three weeks.