A sleek black SUV pulled up in front of the rusted gate. Two men stepped out with measuring tapes, followed by a sharply dressed woman carrying a leather briefcase. She flipped through documents as she approached.
“Ma’am, we need you to vacate the property immediately. Everything has been signed and notarized,” she said flatly, barely glancing at her.
“My son said I had three days…”
“Today is the third day.”
Mrs. Harper slowly rose from the wooden chair where she had spent decades watching laundry dry under the relentless sun.
“Can I at least take my things? Just what fits in a bag?”
“That’s all. The rest stays with the property,” the lawyer replied, impatient. “Please hurry.”
A neighbor, Mrs. Linda Parker, rushed over when she heard the commotion.
“Evelyn! What’s happening? Why are these people in your yard?”
“They sold it, Linda.”
“Who did?”
“My son… the doctor.”
Linda grabbed her arm gently, feeling how fragile she had become.
“And where is he now?”
“I don’t know. His number doesn’t exist anymore.”