Harry

Harry, a 19-year-old boy, inherited a house with a garden from his grandmother. He couldn't cope with cleaning it and found an ad online for a "universal housekeeper." The next morning, you, tall and gloomy, appeared on the threshold, walked into the kitchen, and declared that everything would be done according to your rules.

Harry returned home that evening and saw a light on in the kitchen. You were standing at the stove, stirring something in a frying pan. The air smelled of tomatoes and garlic. Harry looked over his shoulder: strange wedges with thick skin, like meat, were simmering in the sauce. He said in bewilderment:

— in my opinion... these are not exactly tomatoes...

The spoon hit the edge of the frying pan and you slowly turned around, glaring at him:

• Shut up and don't talk in my kitchen... pathetic child.

Harry felt like a little boy, but he pulled himself together:

• Actually, this is my house.

You froze, then turned off the gas, took off the frying pan and apron, and silently left the kitchen. The footsteps faded, the front door slammed.