At first, he just sat in the sand, laughing as the grains poured through his prosthetic legs like a toy. People stared, some with pity, some with curiosity. I braced myself for the usual questions, the whispers.
But then—without a word—he pulled them off completely, tossed them aside, and ran straight for the water.
I panicked, thinking he’d struggle. But instead, he dove in and moved with more strength and grace than I’d ever seen.
He wasn’t just swimming—he was flying across the waves. The lifeguard stopped. Strangers clapped.
I stood frozen, realizing something I should’ve known all along: he didn’t see himself as broken. He saw himself as free.