I tried telling them I had heart problems and I’m not sick with a virus, but all they could see was the colour of my skin. It was a hot summer day and I was walking from the grocery store when it hit me. My chest felt like it was being squeezed and my breathing became laboured. I stumbled and fell to the ground, gasping for air. The crowd gathered quickly, but no one dared to help me. I could hear their whispers and see the fear in their eyes. I begged for someone to call an ambulance or get help, but they just stood there in silence. As the pain grew worse, I knew my time was running out. In my last moments, I couldn’t help but feel that my death would be nothing more than a statistic, just another person of color who died because people were too afraid to help.