As Michael Hartwell approached, I felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me—fear, anxiety, and a strange sense of resolve. I had acted impulsively, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. The elderly man standing beside me deserved respect and assistance, regardless of his inability to verbally communicate.
Margaret reached us first, her eyes flickering between the elderly man and me. “Catherine, what is going on here?” she demanded, her tone sharp and clipped. I glanced at Mr. Hartwell and offered a polite, if somewhat nervous, smile. Before I could answer, Michael Hartwell arrived.
