Gertrude was already waiting.
She demanded to know what I was doing.
“Taking my documents.”
She saw the folder in my hands.
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“What documents?”
“My financial records.”
She lunged for them.
I pulled them back.
“Don’t touch me.”
She grabbed again.
During the struggle, her hand struck the side of my face.
Pain exploded through my ear.
I stumbled backward.
Brenda immediately stepped between us.
Gertrude froze.
I touched my face.
My ear was ringing.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Gertrude said:
“You made me do that.”
That was when I knew there was nothing left to save.
I photographed the injury, went to a nearby clinic, and filed an assault report.
I also contacted an attorney.
Her name was Felicia.
She told me something I desperately needed to hear.
“Stop trying to convince them you’re reasonable. Start documenting everything.”
So I did.
I moved into a small rented apartment and turned one corner of it into a makeshift legal office.
