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195 Asking For Help

A middle-aged woman in a plain grey T-shirt and light blue jeans sat on the living room sofa, her hands on her closed knees, her eyes downcast. The coffee in front of her was steaming, and it was obvious that she hadn't touched it.

“Hey!” I whispered. “I'm Eva.”

“Hi!” The woman stood up at once. She looked at me a little stiffly. “My name is Joe. I'm a friend of Joan's. We're all in the same union.”

“How did you find me?” I motioned for her to sit down.

“Joan gave me your number,” said Joe, “And we found your place. I'm sorry to bother you so late. Joan needs your help.”

“You didn't come alone?” I asked curiously.

“I have another colleague with me,” Joe said truthfully. “He's waiting for me outside.”

“Is he here to ensure your safety?” I looked at her. “Since your friend is worried about your safety, why are you looking for me? So, what's the matter?”

“We just...” Joe looked down sheepishly. “Just in case. But Joan says you're a trustworthy person. You're not like your father.”

“I hel
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