Peering through the windows, Arielle saw Malorie Thisdale’s wrinkled face illuminated by a single yellow lightbulb. Her expression was exceedingly pitiful as she pleaded, “Please, I’m just an old woman. I’m begging you to please let me go. I swear if I had any money at all, I would have given some to you all!”
A shabbily dressed man stood before her. Arielle caught sight of multiple patches on his trousers with her sharp vision. Beside him stood a little boy who looked about ten years old. Clad in similarly ragged and filthy clothes, he gazed at the adults with big, bright eyes.
The man sighed wearily. “I don’t mean to force you either, Mrs. Southall, but we’re really at our wits’ end! It’s the rainy season now, and once the rain pours, my house turns into a lake! It’s completely uninhabitable!”
Hearing that, Malorie fished around in her pocket and retrieved some cash.
She handed it to him, stating, “Here’s two hundred. It’s all I have on me now. Take it and fix your roof. Now, please leave. At least let me have a moment’s peace before I attend my granddaughter’s funeral tomorrow!”
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