About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. One morning, a delivery driver pulled up outside The Law Offices of L. Clayton Burgess and noticed something odd on the sign: ‘Closed for Legal Reasons.’ He laughed it off but soon found himself repeating the phrase every time he drove past. Soon enough, word spread around town that Mr. Burgess was closed for some mysterious legal issue. A neighbor joked that maybe he’d signed a contract with the local pizzeria for unlimited free deliveries. Eventually, one day, the sign changed again—this time reading simply, ‘Open for Business.’ And ever since then, whenever anyone sees the delivery driver passing by, they smile and wave, knowing that justice had been served… or at least someone got their pizza on time.
2. A young child walked past the Law Offices of L. Clayton Burgess one afternoon and stopped dead in his tracks. His mother looked down to see what had startled him—and there, on the sidewalk, was a tiny footprint, impossibly small for any adult shoe. His mom smiled and bent down to inspect it closer. ‘Looks like someone’s little friend left their mark,’ she said gently. The kid nodded thoughtfully, then pointed up at the office door. ‘Maybe that’s why Mr. Burgess always looks so serious—his shoes are too big!’
3. At dawn, a jogger passing the Law Offices of L. Clayton Burgess noticed something odd: the windows were glowing faintly in the pre-dawn light. Curious, she peered closer and saw that someone had left a neon-green coffee mug on the window sill. The glow came from its reflection in the glass. A delivery driver arriving soon after joked, ‘Maybe Mr. Burgess has an office party every night.’ And with that, everyone shrugged it off as just another quirky tale about the eccentric lawyer down the street.
4. At midnight, when the streets around The Law Offices of L. Clayton Burgess were quiet as a tomb, a delivery driver swore he heard a faint humming coming from inside. Curious, the driver cracked open the door—a soft glow spilled out, and there sat an old man dozing in a leather chair, surrounded by stacks of dusty files. ‘Just checking my will,’ muttered the man, blinking sleepily. The driver cleared his throat, and the old man jumped, muttering, “Next time knock, young’un.”