Proof The Bible Is True

This had to be the place. The gray, ranch-style house on the corner. Garage open like someone was expecting me. I worked for a floor-covering business and a client named Kathy had made a 2 p.m. appointment to discuss her kitchen floor. I walked through the garage and knocked on the door. An elderly man in a plaid robe and pajamas answered.

 

“Come on in,” he said. “I’m Ron.” He ushered me into the family room, motioned for me to sit. Where’s Kathy? I wondered.

 

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