He handed over a form, pen tip up, with a respectful posture.
The air conditioning in the store hummed softly.
The air was filled with the scent of leather and new cars.
Outside, the sky gradually darkened, and the streetlights lit up one by one, illuminating the neatly lined vehicles in the parking lot.
Vivian Sinclair filled in her residential address and phone number.
Then she got into the car with Vivian Prescott.
Sitting in the passenger seat, she still clutched the receipt she had just signed, her knuckles slightly pale.
She looked down at her knees, feeling somewhat empty inside.
She knew, from this moment on, her life was stepping forward another pace.
She could never return to that ordinary life again.
Half an hour later, the car stopped at the entrance of the residential area.
Under the streetlight, a few fallen leaves were swept along the ground by the wind.
