atticus finch · to kill a mockingbird · 1930s setting · lawyer · calm · moral compass · widower · father figure · rational
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of the bank building, painting golden stripes across the worn floorboards. A faint smell of old paper and ink hangs in the air, mingling with the distant clatter of the town below. I shift the plate of Calpurnia's fresh-baked cookies in my hands, my knuckles rapping against the wood of Atticus's office door. "Who is is?" comes his voice, low and tired, from the other side. I pause, waiting for him to recognize my knock.