26 Maple Boulevard, Bloomfield, NJ

Maple Boulevard.

I looked down at my crinkled map and address. Here we are.

The houses were so huge, I swear they were all mansions.

I swatted an angry fly away from my face, and wiped my forehead with the bottom of my dirty shirt. Seeing the pizza stains, and smelling my clothes made me remember to change before I met my long lost relative. I sure wouldn’t make an impression in this state.

I snuck behind a bush, quickly switching my dirty t-shirt and jeans for a plaid skirt and white blouse. I was prepared.

26 Maple Boulevard, Bloomfield, New Jersey.

I repeated the memorized address over and over in my head as I strode down the lane, looking at the houses one by one.

18, 20, 22, 24…

There it was. Lucky number 26. I gulped nervously. My sweat glands were working overtime.

I walked slowly up the pathway to the huge stain glass door, with stain glass columns on either side. (Have you ever seen those before? Nope, neither have I.)

I pulled at my skirt, took a deep breath, and knocked.

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