I Paid for an Elderly Man’s Bread… The Next Morning, a Motorcade of Official Vehicles Stormed My House

I Paid for an Elderly Man’s Bread… The Next Morning, a Motorcade of Official Vehicles Stormed My House

Timothy sighed. “I’m sorry about all of this… genuinely.”

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” Timothy answered with a faint smile.

Walter clapped his hands. “Good. You’ve met. I’ll leave the rest to you.”

And just like that, he walked out.

For illustrative purposes only
The Days After
I left confused, annoyed, and trying not to think about Timothy’s eyes. Going back wasn’t an option.

But two days later, Timothy appeared at the grocery store. No suit—just a jacket and a queue number, waiting in my line.

“I figured this was less dramatic than the alternative,” he said.

“The alternative being a motorcade?” I asked.

Timothy winced. “That wasn’t my idea.”

“I know. But you’re still related to a man who turns everything into a full-blown movie scene.”

“For the record,” Timothy said, “this isn’t even in Dad’s top five strangest ideas.”

I laughed despite myself.

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