Don’t I don't know what happened in Philadelphia, but I do know this. One evening, I exited the elevator of our high-rise N.Y.C. condo, turned left, and inserted my key into the first door to my right. Before I stepped into the house, I found a gorgeous chest in the foyer. "No, he didn't!" I thought. "No. He didn't." I realized this when I noticed the wall color. It wasn't our home. I was on the 9th floor instead of the 8th. Oops. Yes. The key worked. Locksmiths will tell you that happens A LOT. My takeaway:
- I never entered that apartment. My rapidly beating heart and I made a break for the stairs and our less impressive furniture.
- I buy less popular, super-duper locks (key and combination) just in case.
- I don't know the details of this case, but this mom knows what it's like to exhale when your adult son seemingly has done all the right things and is living a good life. I pray for this family as they endure a nightmare I hadn't considered until yesterday.
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