The first time I met Arthur was the day he moved into the green colonial house next door. There was something about him that sent a chill down my spine. Maybe it was that polished smile, too perfect to be real, or the way his courteous words felt like lines from a script rather than anything heartfelt.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
After his wife’s funeral, Arthur retreated further into himself, becoming little more than a shadow behind the curtains of the green colonial house.
The only other soul in that house was his mother, Maria—a delicate, blind woman whose clouded eyes held a softness that stood in stark contrast to her son’s icy demeanor.
Sometimes, I’d catch her in the garden, her hands shaping clay with the tenderness of someone who still believed in beauty. I’d wave from across the yard, and she’d tilt her head toward my voice, offering a smile so sincere, it made me wonder how such light could possibly share blood with someone as unreadable as Arthur.
A smiling older lady making clay pots | Source: Midjourney
It was a crisp Tuesday morning, the kind where the air feels sharp enough to wake your bones. I was reaching into the mailbox when I heard footsteps—quick, purposeful. I turned to see Arthur striding toward me, his jaw tight, eyes clouded with urgency.
“Samantha, I need a favor,” he said, his fingers tapping a frantic rhythm against the wooden slats of our shared fence. I blinked, caught off guard.
“My mother’s being discharged from County General this afternoon,” he continued, barely pausing for breath. “But I’ve got an emergency meeting I can’t move. Could you… could you pick her up? She knows your voice—says it calms her. She trusts you.”
An emergency sign on a hospital building | Source: Pexels
I hesitated, that familiar knot tightening in my stomach—the one that always showed up when Arthur was involved. But then Maria’s face came to mind—her serene smile, the way her hands moved with such care when molding clay. She didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of whatever strange tension her son carried.
“What time does she need to be picked up?” I asked, my voice steadying despite the unease curling in my chest.
Arthur’s shoulders dropped, the tension in his frame easing ever so slightly. “Around three. I should be home by six at the latest. You’d just need to help her get settled. I really can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“It’s fine… no worries,” I replied, though the words felt borrowed from someone more confident than I felt.
“Thank you,” he said, already turning back toward the house. “She’ll be waiting at the main entrance.”
A man heading toward his house | Source: Midjourney
The sharp tang of antiseptic greeted me the moment I stepped through the sliding glass doors, sterile and cold, like the place itself was trying to scrub away any trace of human pain.
Maria was easy to spot. She sat quietly in a corner chair, hands folded in her lap with the grace of someone raised on manners. Her silver hair was pulled into a soft, unraveled bun, and her skin looked almost translucent under the harsh hospital lights—paler than I remembered, like a ghost waiting patiently to be claimed.
“Maria?” I called softly as I approached, careful not to startle her. “It’s Samantha—from next door.”
Her face lit up with instant recognition, a warmth blooming across her features. “Samantha! Arthur said you might come. Thank you, dear, truly.” Her hands lifted, reaching toward the sound of my voice.
I gently took her weathered hands in mine, their warmth surprising in the chill of the hospital air. “It’s no trouble at all. How are you feeling?”
“Oh, much better now that I’m finally getting out of this place,” she chuckled, the sound light but tinged with fatigue. “Four days in here is enough to make these old bones revolt.”
A sad older woman | Source: Midjourney
The nurse handed me Maria’s discharge papers along with a small, crinkling pharmacy bag. She walked me through the care instructions—timing for medications, warning signs to watch for. I nodded, listening carefully while casting the occasional glance at Maria, who sat patiently, her hands folded like always.
Once everything was signed and squared away, I helped her into my car. The ride was quiet, peaceful in a way, until we turned onto our street.
“Arthur’s not home?” she asked as we pulled into the driveway of the green colonial house.
“He said he had a meeting—promised he’d be back by six.”
Maria let out a soft sigh, almost more to herself than to me. “That boy is always running. Never sits still long enough to catch his breath.”
I helped her up the steps and inside, and was immediately struck by the change. The house felt different—stale, heavy. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful but forgotten. The air was thick with mustiness, and shadows clung to the corners. When had these windows last seen sunlight?
The kitchen sink overflowed with dishes, some of them crusted over, as though they’d been sitting for days. Dust blanketed the furniture like it had settled in for a long stay. I couldn’t help but wonder: was Arthur really just busy… or was he hiding?
Sunlight seeping into a room | Source: Midjourney
“Would you like me to make you something to eat?” I asked, frowning as I peered into the nearly empty refrigerator. A lone carton of eggs, half a bottle of orange juice, and some wilting lettuce greeted me. Not much to work with.
“Oh, dear, you don’t have to do that,” Maria said, waving a hand dismissively. But just then, her stomach let out a low, unmistakable growl, betraying her politeness.
I smiled. “I insist.”
I managed to pull together a simple pasta dish with what little I found in the pantry—no gourmet meal, but it would do. As the water boiled and the garlic sizzled in the pan, Maria began to talk, her voice soft and nostalgic.
She told me stories about her late husband, about the road trips they used to take before her vision faded—dusty diners in New Mexico, quiet lakeside motels, the time they got lost for six hours in West Virginia and laughed about it for six years.
“Arthur was always so serious, even as a child,” she said when I placed a plate in front of her. She gave me a grateful smile before continuing. “His father and I used to worry about him… he never made friends easily. Always off in his own world.”
Her words lingered in the space between us, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. I watched her eat slowly, thoughtfully, and couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of world had Arthur built for himself in all that solitude?
An older woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
As I helped Maria eat, my eyes wandered around the house, taking in its hollow stillness. There were no photographs on the walls, no books on the shelves, no little trinkets to tell a story. It felt more like a waiting room than a home—somewhere people passed through rather than lived in.
“This is delicious,” Maria said between bites, her voice tender. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.”
Something about the way she said it tugged at me. Not just the words, but the quiet ache behind them.
After dinner, I guided her through her medication, reading the labels aloud and helping her sip water between pills. Then I walked her to the bedroom, the only room that seemed even slightly lived-in. I fluffed her pillows, pulled the blanket over her legs, and smoothed back a stray strand of silver hair from her forehead.
“Arthur should be home soon,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was already past five.
Maria reached out and found my hand, her grip surprisingly firm for someone so fragile. “Thank you, Samantha,” she whispered, her cloudy eyes searching my face. “You’re a blessing.”
The warmth in her voice clashed with the cold air around us, and as I stood there in the doorway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this house had more shadows than light—and maybe more secrets than anyone cared to admit.
Grayscale shot of two women comforting each other | Source: Pexels
Her words wrapped around me like a soft blanket. “I’d like that very much,” she said, her cloudy eyes managing to radiate a warmth that felt almost motherly.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” I promised, squeezing her hand gently before letting myself out.
Later, I was curled up on the couch, halfway through a glass of wine and completely engrossed in my favorite crime show—the kind where the twist always came just before the final commercial break. I didn’t hear the footsteps on the porch, only the sudden, sharp knock knock knock that made me jump, wine sloshing over the rim of my glass.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not at 7:30 p.m.
When I opened the door, the chill that rushed in had nothing to do with the weather.
Arthur stood on my porch, flanked by two uniformed police officers. His expression was wild, breath shallow, eyes darting—not frantic, but purposeful. Cold.
“That’s her,” Arthur said, voice tight as he pointed straight at me. “She was the last person in the house today.”
For a moment, everything froze—my mind, my breath, even the space between us. The hum of the TV still played behind me, some detective on screen talking about betrayal, as if mocking me.
And just like that, the world shifted.
Two police officers on duty | Source: Pexels
“Ms. Samantha?” One of the officers spoke, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering. “We’d like to speak with you about an incident at the residence next door.”
“What incident?” I asked, trying to steady my pulse, but a sinking feeling clawed at my stomach.
Arthur took a step forward, his face a mask of accusation. “You know what you did. My mother’s diamond ring—a family heirloom—is missing. You were alone in our house for hours today.”
My breath caught in my throat. My mouth went dry. “You… you think I stole from you?” The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to me, like I couldn’t quite understand the gravity of the accusation. “After I helped your mother?”
The shock on my face must have been evident because the officer’s gaze softened just slightly, but Arthur didn’t flinch. He stood there, his finger still pointed at me, eyes hard as stone.
“You were the only one there today, Samantha. You had the perfect opportunity.”
I felt my legs almost give way beneath me. How could this be happening? This wasn’t just a misunderstanding—it was an accusation.
“He’s filed a report about a missing valuable,” the second officer added, his tone unnervingly calm, as if this was just another routine matter. “Would you mind if we came in to discuss this?”
The words hit me like a slap, the weight of them sinking deep into my chest. I stood frozen, the glass of wine still clutched in my hand, now forgotten. My mind raced—How could this be happening? I had just helped his mother. I had spent hours making sure she was settled.
But Arthur’s words echoed in my ears, sharper than ever. You had the perfect opportunity. The second officer’s eyes scanned my face, waiting for a response, but all I could do was stare back at them, mouth dry, heart pounding in my throat.
I thought about the house next door—the way it felt empty, forgotten, like a place that was losing pieces of itself, piece by piece. Was this some cruel twist of fate?
I could feel their eyes on me, unblinking. Every second stretched into eternity.
“What do you think?” the first officer asked, his voice low but firm, clearly waiting for my answer.
A shaken woman | Source: Midjourney
My hands trembled as I stepped back, the weight of the officers’ gaze pressing down on me. “I didn’t take anything,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best effort to sound firm. “I picked Maria up from the hospital, brought her home, made her dinner, and left. That’s it.”
Arthur’s face twisted with something like anger, or maybe disappointment—it was hard to tell with his eyes fixed on me like a predator sizing up its prey. “The ring was in her jewelry box this morning,” he snapped, his voice sharp, accusing. “I checked before I left. Now it’s gone, and you were the only other person in our house.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. How could he say that? After everything I’d done for his mother? It didn’t make sense. I felt my stomach churn, the bile rising in the back of my throat.
“May we look around?” The first officer’s question was almost casual, as if this were just another check on their list of duties.
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the sick feeling in my chest. I nodded, my throat tight. “Of course. I have nothing to hide.”
As the officers began their cursory search through the living room—lifting cushions, glancing through the bookshelves—I turned back to Arthur, my voice barely a whisper, but full of hurt and disbelief. “How could you accuse me of this? I did you a favor. I didn’t have to help Maria. I didn’t have to cook for her… but I did. And this is how you repay me?”
Arthur didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered for a moment, almost like he was debating whether to say more. But instead, he just stood there, cold and silent, watching the officers as they moved through my space.
The silence between us was thick with tension—heavy with all the unspoken things hanging in the air.
An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney
Arthur’s face remained as cold as stone, his words cutting through the air. “Things have been disappearing from our house for weeks. Small things at first, but now this ring… it was worth thousands.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My stomach twisted into a tight knot. “And you think I’ve been stealing from you for weeks?” My voice was almost a laugh, but it was laced with a disbelief that I could barely contain. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Before he could answer, a faint tapping sound broke through the silence, sharp against the heavy tension in the room. The door was still slightly ajar, and through the crack, I saw her—Maria—slowly making her way onto the porch, her cane tapping softly on the wooden steps. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not yet.
“MOM?!” Arthur’s voice cracked with surprise, and there was something else there too, something like fear that flickered across his face. “What are you doing here? You should be resting.”
Maria’s cloudy eyes, though sightless, seemed to sense the shift in the air. She turned toward him, her unseeing gaze locking onto his voice. “I heard voices,” she said softly, her voice warm but tinged with confusion. “I heard what you said about the ring.”
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, leaving everything else to fade into the background. For a moment, I stood frozen, my breath caught in my chest. Arthur’s face shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before it was quickly replaced with something else—defensiveness, maybe, or anger.
Maria’s arrival had completely thrown the atmosphere into disarray, but it also felt like a sign, like the calm before the storm, and I had no idea what would come next.
A startled man | Source: Midjourney
One of the officers moved to help Maria into a chair, his movements gentle but firm. “Ma’am, are you alright?”
Maria’s frail hand rested on her cane, and she nodded slightly, her unseeing eyes scanning the room with a calm that felt almost out of place. “I’m fine. But I need to tell you something about that ring.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension almost suffocating. As Maria settled into the armchair, her fingers tightened around the cane, as if it was the only thing holding her steady in this storm of accusations.
Arthur’s expression shifted from surprise to confusion to something darker, a knot forming in his throat. He stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.
Maria’s voice broke the silence, steady but filled with weight. “Arthur doesn’t know this,” she began, her tone quiet but cutting through the room like a razor. “But after his father died, I had hidden security cameras installed in our house. My blindness makes me vulnerable, and I needed some measure of protection.”
Arthur’s face drained of color in an instant. He stepped back, his jaw going slack. “Mom, what are you talking about?” he stammered, his voice shaky, betraying the panic building behind his composed facade.
Maria didn’t flinch. She spoke as if she were recounting an everyday truth. “The cameras were put in place to protect me… to make sure no one took advantage of my blindness. And they’ve been recording everything that happens in the house. Everything.”
Arthur’s face twisted with disbelief. “No. You can’t… this isn’t—”
Maria raised a hand, her voice growing firmer, more resolute. “Arthur, don’t you dare interrupt me. I’ve watched the footage. I’ve seen who has been in the house when no one was supposed to be.”
The words hit with a force I couldn’t have anticipated, the air thick with suspense. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Arthur was looking at his mother now like she had become a stranger, his shock morphing into something else—something darker.
Maria’s voice, though soft, was laced with an undeniable gravity. “The cameras are small… and voice-activated,” she explained, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the cane. “They send footage to a service that describes to me what they see.”
Arthur’s face, already pale, became ghostly. His mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came. He looked like someone who had just realized his entire world was built on sand.
Maria continued, her voice steady, but with an unmistakable edge. “When I heard about this ring, I called them from the landline while you were out front talking to these officers.” Her words seemed to carry more weight now, like a slow-moving storm that was about to break.
The officers exchanged a glance, sensing the shift in power. I felt my pulse quicken, the room feeling smaller with each passing second.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the cameras?” Arthur’s voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness to it now, a sting that hadn’t been there before.
“I didn’t trust you with the knowledge,” Maria said simply. “Not after your behavior over the past few months. I’ve seen how you’ve been acting, Arthur. You’ve been angry, and restless… things don’t disappear without a reason.”
Arthur stood frozen, his eyes flickering between the officers and his mother, the realization slowly sinking in. “What did the footage show?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper now.
Maria’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve already told the officers what I know. They’ll have the footage reviewed. But as for that ring…” She paused, her cloudy eyes narrowing as if she could see straight through him. “I saw who took it.”
A smart web camera | Source: Pexels
The tension in the room grew unbearable as the officers watched the footage. Maria, though blind, spoke with the authority of someone who had been keeping a careful watch, and her voice was unwavering. Arthur, once so composed, now shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between the officers and his mother.
The first officer, after a few moments of intense scrutiny, looked up. His face was neutral, but I could see the shift in his posture. He had seen enough.
“Mr. Arthur,” the officer said slowly, his voice firm, “it appears the footage from this morning shows you taking the ring from the jewelry box. You were alone in the house, and there’s no other explanation.”
Arthur’s face turned from a deep red to a shade that could only be described as ashen. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“This… this isn’t right,” Arthur said, his voice wavering as he took a step back. “It must be a mistake. I would never—”
“You’re lying, Arthur,” Maria said calmly, her voice cutting through his protests like a knife. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
The second officer, still scanning the footage, nodded to his partner. “We’ll need to take this footage into evidence. We’ll also need you to come with us, Mr. Arthur. We have some questions that need answering.”
Arthur’s eyes flicked to me, a mix of disbelief and desperation. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t stealing it. I was… I was just…”
Maria’s voice grew louder, sharper, cutting through his fumbling excuses. “You were taking what didn’t belong to you, Arthur. You were stealing from your own mother. And for what? To cover your tracks?”
Arthur’s chest heaved as he tried to hold onto his composure, but it was slipping away, bit by bit.
“I didn’t—” His voice cracked, the lie hanging in the air like a cloud. “I wasn’t stealing… I just… I needed it. I didn’t want you to know.”
The officers exchanged glances again before one of them spoke up. “Sir, we need to take you in for questioning.”
Two cops reviewing something on a phone | Source: Pexels
The room went silent as Arthur slowly pulled the ring from his jacket pocket. The gleam of the diamond caught the dim light, casting sharp reflections that seemed to mock the gravity of the moment.
The second officer took the ring from him without a word, examining it briefly before turning to Arthur with an unblinking gaze. “So, this is the missing heirloom?”
Arthur stood frozen, his face drained of color. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, but he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He avoided his mother’s piercing gaze, and I could see his resolve crumbling.
“You’ve had this the whole time?” Maria asked, her voice low but laced with a quiet fury that matched the severity of the situation. “And all this time, you made me believe I was wrong?”
Arthur opened his mouth, but no words came. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly. The weight of his actions seemed to hit him all at once, as if the ring in his hand had become too heavy to hold.
“I… I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Arthur mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I thought if I took it, no one would know.”
“No one would know?” Maria repeated, the disbelief in her voice palpable. “Arthur, I knew. And now these officers know. I trusted you.”
The first officer took a step forward, his tone firm. “Mr. Arthur, we’re going to need you to come with us. You’re under suspicion of theft, and we’ll be processing this accordingly.”
Arthur’s eyes darted between the officers, Maria, and me, his mind racing. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but the words faltered on his lips. His shoulders sagged, the weight of his actions crashing down on him.
“I never wanted it to be like this,” he finally muttered, his voice barely audible. “But… things have been falling apart. And I…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
The officers moved toward him, guiding him toward the door with a silent authority. Arthur didn’t resist; he barely even seemed to register their presence anymore, his mind consumed with guilt and regret.
I watched the scene unfold, my mind reeling from everything that had just happened. The last thing I expected was to see Arthur—the man who had always been so cold and controlled—break down in front of me like this.
As the officers led Arthur out of the house, I turned to Maria, who was still sitting in my chair, her face a mixture of sadness and relief.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, my voice gentle.
Maria’s cloudy eyes met mine, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. “I don’t know, Samantha. I never thought I’d see my son do something like this. But… I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Close-up shot of a person holding a diamond ring | Source: Pexels
Arthur’s face twisted in guilt and frustration as he struggled to find words, but none seemed to come out right. His hands fidgeted nervously, betraying the facade of composure he had clung to for so long. The officers remained silent, but their expressions hardened as they listened to the exchange.
Maria’s voice cracked with the weight of betrayal. “You used me, Arthur. I trusted you with everything I had. And you took it all. I might be blind, but I’m not blind to what’s been happening. I knew my things were disappearing, but I thought maybe I was just imagining it.” Her tears fell freely now, each one a marker of the pain Arthur had caused.
Arthur’s eyes darted to me, and for a moment, there was a flicker of regret—a look that said he knew he had lost everything. “I never meant for things to go this far,” he whispered, his voice trembling with desperation. “I never meant for you to get involved, Samantha. I—”
“Enough,” Maria interjected sharply, her hands clutching the arm of the chair. “You have caused enough harm. You never gave me a chance to help, Arthur. Instead, you chose to steal from me. And from Samantha. From everyone who cared about you. You have no one left to blame but yourself.”
Arthur’s eyes filled with a mixture of rage and shame. “I didn’t ask for any of this!” he snapped. “You think I wanted to fall into this hole? I didn’t have a choice! I—”
“No,” Maria interrupted, her voice steady now, her grief replaced by something colder, something resolute. “You did have a choice. And every choice you made led you here. And now you will face the consequences.”
The officers exchanged a glance before one of them spoke. “We have enough evidence to proceed with charges. You’ll be taken to the station now, Mr. Arthur.”
Arthur’s body seemed to slump in defeat. He opened his mouth to speak again but stopped, his words lost. His eyes flicked to his mother one last time, searching for some trace of the woman who had once adored him, but all he found was a face filled with disappointment.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Maria didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look at him. She simply turned her face away, letting the silence speak for the years of hurt he had caused.
The officers moved in, guiding Arthur out the door, and the moment he was gone, the weight in the room seemed to lift just slightly.
I stood there, feeling the heaviness of the situation settle on my chest. I turned to Maria, whose face was still wet with tears but whose expression had softened a bit.
“I never thought it would come to this,” Maria said quietly, her voice tinged with sorrow. “But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he needs to face the truth now.”
“I’m so sorry, Maria,” I said, my heart aching for her. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”
Maria reached out a hand, her fingers grasping for mine. “No, Samantha. You were a light in all this darkness. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”
I held her hand tightly, knowing that this was only the beginning of a long and painful journey for both of us. But for the first time in what felt like forever, I knew we had a chance for things to heal.
Would you like to explore how Maria copes with the aftermath of Arthur’s actions, or focus on the next steps for Samantha as she moves forward?
An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney
The officers took Arthur away that night after Maria explained everything… how she suspected he’d been stealing from her for months to cover gambling debts, how she’d been afraid to confront him, and how she’d heard him on the phone arranging high-interest loans.
After they left, Maria remained in my living room, looking smaller than ever.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” she whispered. “I never thought he would drag someone else into this.”
I stood beside her, still processing everything that had happened. “How did you know to come over?”
A sad smile crossed her face. “When you lose one sense, others compensate. I heard him whispering on the phone about the police and the ring. I knew something was wrong.”
A disheartened woman | Source: Midjourney
“You must feel terrible,” I said, reaching for her hand.
Maria’s fingers intertwined with mine. “I’ve failed him as a mother. Something broke in Arthur after his wife died, but the truth is, he’s been troubled for longer than that.”
We sat in silence for a moment before I asked, “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. I can’t stay in that house alone.”
“Stay here until we figure something out. The guest room is already made up.”
A bedroom | Source: Unsplash
Maria’s cloudy eyes filled with tears again. “After what my son tried to do to you, you’d still help me?”
I squeezed her hand. “We don’t get to choose our family, but we can choose how we treat our neighbors.”
***
Two weeks later, Maria moved into the small apartment above my garage that I’d been using for storage. Arthur was charged with fraud and filing a false police report, and the debts he’d accumulated were staggering.
A man in handcuffs | Source: Pexels
Meanwhile, Maria and I developed a routine — morning coffee on the patio, grocery shopping on Wednesdays, and audiobooks in the evening. Her presence filled a loneliness in my life I hadn’t fully acknowledged.
One evening, as I sat watching Maria make her clay pots, she said, “Samantha, do you know what I’ve learned in my 73 years?”
“What’s that?”
“Sometimes the family we’re born into fails us. But if we’re lucky, we find the family we need along the way.”
An older woman making pottery | Source: Midjourney
I watched the sunset paint the sky in colors Maria could no longer see but could still feel in the changing warmth on her face.
“I’m the lucky one!” I told her, and I meant it with all my heart.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: The night before his trip, my husband asked me to hide a box. I wasn’t supposed to open it… but when I did, I called 911.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
