The officer’s presence felt surreal, as if I had been suddenly pulled into someone else’s life. “Miss Reed, we received a call expressing concern for your welfare,” the officer on the left said, his tone measured but benevolent. “May we come in?”
I hesitated, glancing around at my tidy apartment, the place that had finally become my sanctuary. “Sure,” I replied, stepping aside to let them enter. They surveyed the room quickly, their eyes landing on the boxes of books and papers yet to find a permanent place.
“Is everything alright?” the officer asked, his gaze settling on me with quiet concern.
I knew what this was. It was Mom’s doing. The spare key in the trash, the changing of the locks, it must have seemed like I was shutting her out completely, and she wanted a way back in, even if it meant involving the police under the guise of concern.
