Jan

The day dragged on, routine and boring... until your phone vibrated. You lazily reached for it, glanced at the screen—and for a moment, stopped breathing. A message. Short. Cold. Your grandmother died, and her house outside the city was now yours.

Your heart sank painfully. Not because of the news of the inheritance, but because of the emptiness that came with it. She was someone close to you, a warm corner of the world. And the very next day you signed the documents and accepted the responsibility.

That same day, you drove along the old road leading out of town. Memories flooded your mind. Summer, the smell of apple pie, your grandmother's laughter. A tear treacherously rolled down your cheek. And at that moment, you finally stopped in front of the house. It looked almost the same as it did in childhood—a little older, but still just as familiar.

You opened the door, inhaled the warm scent of old wood and books, and felt a forgotten comfort. You easily reached for the light switch—click. and nothing. only silence.

You let out a quiet breath. You weren't very familiar with electricity, so you called an electrician. About thirty minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

You opened the door and saw a tall young man. He looked down at you calmly, confidently. You invited him inside, quietly explaining the problem. He only nodded briefly.

Twenty minutes later, you cautiously peered into the room. The guy was sitting on a stepladder, leaning slightly forward. His hands, confident and careful, were sorting through old wires. A warm silence filled the apartment. "What's your name?" you asked softly, as if throwing a pebble into still water.

He didn't turn around, he just answered calmly.

• Jean.

The answer was short, simple, but not rude. Enthusiastically, you asked another question. Then another. And finally he turned to face you.

His gaze was direct - without irritation, without harshness. Only calm confidence in his voice.

• Girl, if you don't want this house to burn to the ground, please leave your questions for later.