The following morning, I arrived at the law offices of Parker and Associates, a tall, glass-fronted building that loomed over the street. Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of polished wood. A receptionist greeted me with a rehearsed smile, her eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to her screen.
“Mr. Thompson, please have a seat. Mr. Parker will be with you shortly,” she instructed, gesturing to a row of leather chairs lined up against the wall.
I sat down, my mind racing. The document was in my bag, a constant reminder of the questions that had kept me awake the night before. I pulled it out, scanning it again, hoping for some clarity.
“Mr. Thompson?” a voice called, and I looked up to see a man in a tailored suit standing in the doorway. “Please, come with me.”
Mr. Parker’s office was large, with a view of the city skyline. He gestured for me to sit, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for coming,” he began, sitting behind a wide mahogany desk. “I understand you’re confused about the document you received.”
“Yes, I just… I don’t know what this is about,” I replied, feeling the weight of his gaze.
He nodded, opening a file on his desk. “This is concerning a case that involves you indirectly. It’s a bit complicated, but I assure you, we’re here to help you navigate this.”
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