However, my idea was a disapointment. The robbers must have been some sort of proffesionals, there were 2 of them, they had escaped from a window and made their way to a yellow house. Zooming in, I noticed, that was the very same house in which my divorced mother lived in. They had next stolen from her! I instantly called her up but she said that nothing had been stolen from her. Would that mean, my mother, was a-a thief! I was devastated.
I was supposed to spend the weekend at her place but had started rethinking the decision. My mother was a decent lady, she would never steal! When the dreaded weekend arrived, I made my way to her house. I almost faintedd when I noticed that the same description of the ticking grandfather clock could be heard! My mother was a thief. That night, at her house, I dialed the police, they arrived pretty fast and the look of anger on my mother’s face explained her guilt. It turns out it was her and her new husband who had stolen the clock. Never could I get over the fact, my mother was a thief.