Lily didn't hesitate. She took off her own soaked but still somewhat heavy jacket and draped it over his legs. "Keeping warm is important." She crouched down to be level with his gaze. "Give me your family's number. I'll contact them."
The old man shook his head, his eyes somewhat unfocused. "Can't remember... phone... dead."
At that moment, his body suddenly slumped forward.
"Sir!" Lily caught him, leaning him back against the wheelchair. His skin was unnaturally cold, his pulse weak and rapid. She pulled out her phone—15% battery—and dialed 911.
"Bus shelter, south side of East River Park, elderly male, difficulty breathing, altered consciousness..." She reported as clearly as possible while checking the man's breathing. His lips were beginning to turn bluish.
The siren of the ambulance sounded distant and unreal in the rain.
During the seven minutes of waiting, Lily held the old man's hand, talking continuously: "Hold on, the doctors are coming. What's your name? Tell me your name..."
"El... Elias." The old man whispered.
"Okay, Elias, look at me, stay awake."
The ambulance finally arrived. The paramedics quickly checked him and moved Elias onto a stretcher. "Are you family? Someone needs to accompany him."
Lily looked at the frail man on the stretcher, then at the time on her phone: 5:20. Her evening shift at the gallery started at six. Being late could mean getting fired.
But she climbed into the ambulance.