Charles
We had agreed to move slowly until I had time to talk to Marissa’s father. Marissa was an awful person, but her father had earned my respect. It was because of our agreement that I found myself staring at the door to his home the following day, struggling to bring myself to knock. I felt like a misbehaved child about to face the repercussions of my actions.
“Beta Charles.” Walter exclaimed, opening the door. “You startled me; I was on my way to see Marissa.”
“About that – would it be possible for me to come in? I think we should talk.” I said, squaring my shoulders.
“Sure, come on in. My visit was a surprise anyway, so she won’t be waiting for me.” He chuckled.
I followed him into the small house he had chosen for his retirement.
