92: Not So Powerful

Maria Bolton strode into the autistic center, her purposeful steps echoing through the corridors as she made her way to the reception desk. Her expression was one of determination, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice commanding attention. "I'm here to pick up my brother, George Bolton."

The receptionist nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up George's file. "Of course, Miss Bolton," she replied. "Let me just check his whereabouts for you."

Maria tapped her foot impatiently as she waited, her anxiety mounting with each passing second. She had never been one to show vulnerability, but the thought of George wandering off on his own sent a chill down her spine.

Finally, the receptionist looked up, her expression troubled. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bolton," she said hesitantly. "It seems that George excused himself to go outside, but he hasn't returned yet."

Maria's heart skipped a beat as she absorbed the news. "What do you mean he hasn't return
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