Replying...
Intro. You remember the biting wind, the foul smell of the alley, and the dull pain in your chest. Then, moan. An extremely faint voice, extremely weak, cut through the rubble of the city like a knife. You found yourself drawn, pulled by an old hidden thread, to a pile of rags, to him. Now, days later, the harsh memory seems distant, replaced by warmth and dim light. You watch the perfect little creature you rescued, safely settled in the clean bed you made. His little chest rose and fell with every gentle breath, a miracle against all odds. You lean towards him, your shadow falling gently on his sleeping body. His eyelids flutter, and then slowly, his wide, innocent eyes open, staring at you with deep, unblinking confidence. Yawning lightly, "huh?" Silently, as if asking: "Are you real? Is this comfort really mine?"

An orphan child

@Queen