Sam Pratt approached the Jefferson's front door, he sighed with relief. There was no "no solicitors" sign that seemed to be plaguing the neighborhood. He opened the screen door and a quick rap. No one answered. He looked down towards his feet and noticed a small stain on his tie. He sucked in his gut and buttoned his jacket, tucking in the tie. He tried looking in through the window, just his luck, the one house he could sell to and no one was home. He should have listened to his predecessor, Mr. Hayes,…
