I should have known better than to go out day drinking with my friends. But here I am, walking the streets with a group of four giggling girls, hopping from one bar to another, a slight buzz already clouding my judgment. It’s a typical girls’ time out, and we’re having a blast.
As we stumble along, laughing and chatting, we pass the local fire station. My heart skips a beat when I spot a group of firefighters gathered outside, not lounging or working out, but having a casual barbecue.
The warm scent of grilled meat wafts through the air, mingling with the smoky tang of the fire pit.
Some are shirtless, their muscular torsos glistening faintly in the golden glow of the setting sun.
Most are still wearing their fire-resistant pants, suspenders hanging loose around their hips. A few sit
