The fuzzy sound of World War II era music floated through my apartment as I readied myself for my morning run. I tugged on my tennis shoes and tightened my long brown ponytail before pulling on a light jacket. I had checked the weather earlier and it was supposed to be quite chilly this morning. Spring was deceptive like that, even in New York. You could freeze your ears off in the morning and still be sweating by the afternoon. I briefly went through a mental checklist that was interrupted by the sight of my tiny dog carrying my new pair of socks off into my room.

"Biscuit! No! Come back here!" I called. Her ears pricked up, indicating that she had heard me, but she proceeded into my room. A clink of her collar let me know she had jumped onto my bed. "Of course," I muttered as I went after her. Fifteen minutes later, I gave up playing tug of war with Biscuit. If she wanted my cheap sock so bad, she could have them. I had stuff I needed to accomplish today. I left the apartment, jogging down the stairs instead of catching a lift in the levator and out the doors of the main lobby.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was out and birds were chirping. The sky was a light blue. I fell into my usual pace, my long brown ponytail swinging from side to side as my feet pounded the concrete rhythmically. World War I era music buzzed through the earphones connected to my ancient iPod Nano. I know it was incredibly out of date, but I found that it was more portable and lightweight than my iPhone. I could strap the iPod Nano to my arm and it wouldn't hinder my running much. It also stored a lot more music.

I ran for about ten minutes before I began to feel a familiar tightness in my chest. I slowed, trying to catch my breath, but this wasn't an episode of fatigue. It was an asthma attack. Before I knew it, I was gasping for air. This normally wasn't such a big deal. A couple puffs from my inhaler and I'd be good to go. My inhaler… My hands patted the pockets of my running jacket. Empty. However, the search wasn't fruitless. I did also discover my cellphone was gone. Panic set in, making the situation even worse. How had I forgotten my cellphone and inhaler?

I tried to slow my breathing and my escalated heart rate. This was New York. There were people everywhere. Certainly someone would help me, right? I glanced around frantically, waving at other joggers while coughing and heaving, but everyone had their earphones in or their heads down staring at their phone screens, caught up in their own little worlds. This was incredibly sad. I was surrounded by hundreds of people with cellphones and no one noticed me. I tried to call out, but I had no breath to project my words. Minutes that felt like hours ticked by. The feeling of helplessness increased dramatically.

I bent over, trying to catch my breath. My hands gripped my knees as my breathing grew increasingly violent. That was when I saw him. A big man with short blond hair and a chiseled face approached, blue eyes alight with curiosity and concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern wrinkling his brow.

I shook my head and wheezed, "No." I gulped for air again. "Ah-" I breathed which brought on another round of horrific coughing and wheezing. When it slowed, I was able to mutter, "Asthma."

Recognition showed in his blue eyes, sympathy, as if he had once experienced this, too. "You're having an asthma attack?"

I nodded.

"Do you have an inhaler?"

I shook my head.

"Hang on. I'm calling 911."

He instantly whipped out his smartphone and dialed 911. I was so frightened by my breathing that it was all I could focus on. His voice seemed so distant as the words "in" and "out" played through my head over and over again like a mantra.

With the phone still pressed to his ear, he turned to check on me. "Hang in there. They're on their way," he said encouragingly.

I nodded, indicating I had heard him. I was tired of this physical weakness. It was incredibly frustrating not to be able to go for a run in the spring without my lungs acting up on me periodically. Usually it wasn't such a big problem, but forgetting my inhaler was a problem. A big problem.

"So… Do you usually run here?" the man asked. Distraction. Good.

I nodded.

"Me too." I noticed the grey cotton t-shirt and navy sweatpants he was wearing.

I nodded again which was followed by more coughing.

The man fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that there was nothing he could do, but stand and wait for the ambulance to arrive. That need to help drove him to rub awkward, yet soothing circles into my back. It was long minutes before the screaming ambulance arrived to load me up and take me to the hospital. They ENTs had me breathing medicines and oxygen which helped to open up my lungs and restore my breathing to normal. All of the fight and fear bled out of me as I relaxed against the gurney, finally able to breathe again. Through the chaos, I saw the blond haired man chatting with the response team. Minutes after I was loaded, the doors to the ambulance were shut and it lurched into motion, the sirens whirring as I was transported to the nearest hospital where they would continue my treatment.

I glanced around the pristine white hospital room cluttered with medical equipment and monitors. I hadn't been awake more than a few minutes before there was a light rapping on the door. A nurse poked her head through the crack in the door.

"Miss Roland? There is a visitor here for you. Are you feeling up to seeing him?"

I stared at her for a moment, allowing this to process through my addled mind. A visitor? For me? A him? It definitely couldn't be my mother.

I nodded, as I found myself doing a lot lately. "Yes." I readjusted myself so I was sitting up a little more and I tightened my ponytail which probably was a mess, but there wasn't much I could do at this point.

Seconds after I finished primping, the man that had called the ambulance for me earlier squeezed past the nurse bearing flowers. He was gorgeous, especially now that he had changed into jeans and a navy tshirt. Also, now that I was staring at him, not through an oxygen deprived panic, he looked very familiar. Not because he had come to my rescue earlier, but because I had seen him somewhere before that. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but I was pretty sure I was staring at Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America.

"Hello," he said awkwardly. Despite that, his voice had a deep, confident edge to it. "I just wanted to check on you." He held out the flowers. "I brought you some flowers."

I smiled. "Thank you. They're lovely. Would you mind setting them over there?" I pointed to a small table by the door. After placing the colorful bouquet on the table, he wiped his now empty hands on his jeans, then suddenly seemed to remember something. He reached into his pocket, removing my blue iPod Nano.

"Also, you dropped this," he said as he handed it to me. "Are you always in the habit of listening to music from the World Wars? Sorry, I couldn't help but look."

I giggled. "Yes, I'm a history teacher. I know it's strange, but it's really grown on me. And I think it is better than anything on the radio nowadays."

"I would have to agree."

"Thank you for returning this. And the flowers. And, well, everything. I don't know what I would have done had it not been for you."

"You're welcome."

I extended my hand, "My name is Judy Roland, by the way." This was my chance to confirm my suspicions.

He shook my hand. "Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you."

"Captain America?" I asked, to make for sure.

He smiled. "Yeah."

"Wow. You really are a hero. How can I ever repay you?'

"Dinner?" he asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. I would have expected him to exude a little more confidence in real life, be a tad more… surly and arrogant. But here he was, boyishly shy and… asking me on a date? I felt my cheeks flush.

"Sure. When?"

"Thursday at seven?"

"Sure. That works."

"I'm glad to see that you're feeling better."

"Yes, I'm feeling much better."

"I used to have asthma before all of this." He removed his hands from his pockets to gesture at his superhuman body. "It's not fun."

"No, it isn't. But, 'tis the season. All of the plants are coming out and they really get to me. You know, pollen and stuff." Dang it! What was happening to me? Now it was my turn to be awkward.

He nodded. "Do you need anything else? A ride home…?"

"No, my friend is coming to pick me up. Thanks for the offer though."

"I guess I'll see you Thursday."

"Yes. Thursday."

He moved toward the door, turning the doorknob before pausing. "Oh, and Judy."

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget your inhaler anymore."

I giggled. "I won't," I promised. With that, he left. It wasn't until a few minutes later when I was reflecting on our uncomfortable exchange that I realized I had forgotten to get his number. Or he had forgotten to get mine. How was I supposed to go out to dinner with him if I didn't know where? I mentally kicked himself for being too entranced in his superhuman beauty to think clearly. Oh well, perhaps it just wasn't meant to be. Or perhaps he could get my address the creepy stalkery way from the government, now that he knew my name and all.