Tulsa, Oklahoma, was unspectacular. Out of the plane window, all he had observed was flat brown land dissected into squares. Once in his rental, he found every turn seemed to have an eighteen cent pike toll.
At a stoplight, he watched a few college students playing disc golf on a course that ran along the river. He'd never gone to college but had always assumed University life would have better ways to entertain than disc golf.
He drove past a small university then into a small wooded neighborhood off of South Harvard Avenue. The car's GPS showed him one street over from the address. Mimsy had undoubtedly lied to him throughout his life, but he did believe she wanted the best for him. Whatever was waiting for him was in his best interest.
He looked at each of the unique houses in the quiet community, having no idea what he was about to find. He pulled up to the address. It was a small one-story brick house with a single tree in the center of the yard. The shades were closed, but someone was home.
He locked the car and walked up the driveway to the front door. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Was Mimsy here?
A gruff looking man opened the door and stood in the frame. He had sagging eyes and deep creases on his face. Michael knew nothing about this man but could tell this man had seen his share of misfortunes in his life.
"Sir, umm. This is strange, I know. I was given this address from a friend. I'm not sure why, but I'm guessing I'm here for you?"
The man stayed silent with one hand on the door. Michael watched as his eyes squinted, a single tear dropped down his cheek. He opened the door and stepped to Michael, grabbed him, and pulled him into his arms.
"She actually sent you," he said in a whisper. "My son."