My neighbors’ house burned down, and the community raised thousands for the “devastated” young couple. But I, a retired math teacher, knew they were lying. When the insurance investigator came to my door, they followed him in. “Don’t bother Eleanor,” the husband said with a smirk. “She’s old. She was probably asleep through the whole thing.”
The entire neighborhood was wrapped in a suffocating blanket of sympathy. After the “electrical fire” had consumed the home of the charming young couple, Tom and Sarah, our quiet suburban street had transformed into a hub of communal grief. Casseroles were delivered, clothes were donated, and an online fundraising page was climbing towards an astonishing…