My grandpa was a very frugal man.

My grandpa was a very frugal man. After he died, I found a war medal he had earned. I was planning to keep it, but decided to wear it once. That’s when my life changed forever.

Colonel: That’s a distinguished medal! Where did you get it??
Me: Um… It was my grandpa’s…

The colonel’s eyes narrow, and he takes a small step closer. He’s tall, imposing, the kind of man who commands attention even in civilian clothes. We’re both standing in line at the coffee cart near the park, but the way he’s staring at the medal on my chest makes the world narrow to just us two.

“That’s not just any medal,” he says, his voice low, intense. “That’s the Cross of Valor. Only a handful of men ever earned that. Your grandpa… what was his name?”

I hesitate. “Arthur Brennan.”

The colonel’s expression shifts—subtly, but I catch it. Recognition. Shock, maybe even fear. He glances around as if checking for eavesdroppers, then motions me away from the line.

“Walk with me,” he says, not really a request.

I follow him, confused but curious. We move along the gravel path under the oak trees, my sneakers crunching with each step. I finger the medal hanging around my neck, suddenly self-conscious about wearing it out in public. I only put it on this morning because I missed Grandpa. It felt like a quiet way to remember him. But now…

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