POV: Samira James
The sound of a car door thudding shut echoed through the quiet street of my neighborhood. I stood at the top of the stairs, my hand gripping the wooden banister. Downstairs, I could hear the muffled sounds of the evening news and the occasional clink of a spoon against a bowl as Martin finished his dinner.
The doorbell rang, a sharp, two tone chime that felt like a starting pistol.
"I will get it!" Dad called out from the living room.
I moved down the stairs, my heart rate accelerating with every step. I reached the foyer just as Dad opened the front door. Calvin stood on the porch, his silhouette framed by the porch light. He had traded his hiking gear for a clean white shirt and dark jeans, looking every bit the composed, intentional man I had seen in the den on Fri
