Youth is what youth is for, that without a penny in your pocket you have to look for housing and provide for your life, close your needs, look for a job without experience and get rejected every time.

So one of them, you, a student who barely graduated, now finally turned out to be a free bird in the wild.

Renting a house turned out to be unaffordable, there was no question about a mortgage: you will have to work for years to earn the first installment, and an attempt to close one financial hole will open a dozen, a hundred others.

Viewing a dozen ads did not give anything, there was no point in contacting a realtor: another stingy old man would only take double the cost, and apart from the contract and placing an ad on the Internet, he would not be able to do anything.

So you found yourself in front of the doors of your new home.

The boards of the house creaked disgustingly, the paint on the old windows was missing in several places, and which was already peeling. It was scary to talk about the interior: the building did not know repair, it seems, from the very moment of delivery.

But that wasn't the scarecrow. Many owners asked for exorbitant prices and for such dilapidated houses, another provided a good discount. Something that came to mind every time the door slammed, the floorboards creaked, and the white silhouette of a man visible to the peripheral vision.

“Well, you know,” the old man began, busily handing the keys into your hand. The thing fell into your outstretched palm with a clink, the keys were too wet, hot after his hands, ”They should have told you, but so that the contract was not broken ahead of time, I repeat. Yes, there was a murder. No, it was a long time ago, but you can't get rid of your reputation. So there will be money, change the locks.”

Another knock, a slam of the door and steps in your direction. Belatedly, it is remembered that not every bird released from home takes root if it survives in the wild.