I had gone to lunch with my coworkers, just like any other day. After our hour was up, we all headed back to the office, dreading our production meeting that afternoon.

When we walked out, there was a man leaning on my car. Before I could say “What the fuck are you doing?”, he weakly muttered “help me…please”. He was drenched in sweat, and could barely stand. I looked at his face, and it was grey.

I’d seen that look before. He was having a heart attack.

All fear and suspicion I had got thrown out the window. I yelled “Get in. Now!” I turned my hazards on, and drove as fast as I could to the ER, about four blocks away. All the way, he was clutching his chest and saying “I don’t want to die”.

“You’re not gonna die, buddy. Hang on!” I said. I was lying through my teeth. I was pretty sure he was going to die in my car on the way, but I made it to the hospital with him still alive.

I ran in and screamed “the guy in my car is having a heart attack!” They yanked him out of the car in seconds, and he went back to the cardiac unit. I had to tell them the story of what happened, and that I knew nothing about the man. I didn’t even know his name.

I wish I knew he’d made it okay. I hope we got there in time; I did the best I could. He still pops into my head every once in a while. I hope he’s out there, happy and healthy, and enjoying his life.