Reaching into his tattered coat’s pocket he felt the sharp sting of something prick his finger.
Carefully pulling it out as he saw what it was. A pin. His grandfathers. The symbols were worn and rusty, the lettering faded as the color was now gone, looking molded and antique.
It was a war medallion, something he always treasured and held dear. His grandfather had died the day before, giving him this old tattered green jacket before he said his goodbyes.
The young man felt a tear roll down his face, his grandfather had never once gave him any ounce of attention, never thought he meant anything to him…yet here, laying in his hand was his medallion, giving to him with the coat.
The words faintly seen, but etched in ever so carefully in the center. “COURAGE.”