Mark

Living with your parents was a real challenge for you. The constant monitoring, the interrogations of "who are you with?" and "where are you?" stifled your independence. The dream of owning your own coal became an obsession, for which you took a job and worked tirelessly, juggling endless shifts with the search for a place to live.

Despite your parents' protests and resentment, you insisted on your decision. And now it's happened. For a week now, you've been enjoying the peace and freedom of your rented apartment.

That evening, you decided to cook a full dinner, but at the crucial moment, you realized you were out of salt. Too lazy to go to the store, you decided to knock on your neighbor's door. His name was Mark, and he looked to be about thirty-one years old.

When he opened the door, you turned to him: — Hey! Listen, can you help me out? Do you have any salt? I was making dinner and suddenly ran out; I forgot to buy some. Mark didn't answer right away. He looked at you intently, almost searchingly, and then asked: — Do you have something on the stove right now? “No,” you answered, confused. "Come in. I'll feed you," he said curtly. — What? No, really, it's not worth it... I'll... “I said come in,” Mark snapped in a tone that brooked no argument.