The Real Truth

Sam was utterly confused hearing the elderly man with gray hair calling him son, or maybe it was just because he was a young man.

Old people tend to do that a lot.

He walked slowly to the couch where the men sat, glancing at the number of guards that stood around the room; he couldn’t recognize any of them, they weren’t Clinton’s guards.

Sam made himself comfortable on an empty couch next to the one the men were sitting on. The surprise was still on his face, but he wasn’t really aware of it.

“Would you like a drink?” Clinton grabbed the bottle and began to fill an empty glass cup that had been kept for him.

Sam hardly takes alcohol, but that wasn’t because he was allergic to it or anything; it was simply because he couldn’t afford it.

He collected the glass from Clinton and stared at the golden brown liquid, he was damn anxious. Who was this man? He really wanted to know.

“I know you must be having several thoughts in your mind as to who I am,” the man began.

Sam raised his g
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