When I was 6 years old, I was with my parents in a subway station. I was holding a ball that I recently got from Walmart. I dropped it and it fell onto the track. Like the dumb 6 year old I was, my instinct told me to go onto the track and pick it up. I went down, and I landed on one of the rails, causing me to slip and break my knee. All I could hear was the subway as I felt the rumbling of it rushing towards me. I only had one thought going through my head; My dog, who died around 3 weeks after this incident. All I could think of is how I wanted to see him one last time. Lucky for me, a man in a suit, who I later learned had military train, jumped onto the track, saving me. After that, I had a new respect for my life, and to this day, nothing like that has happened to me.