"We are here to evict you, sir," the officer responded to my question with a mix of awkwardness and determination in his eyes.
Then, as if it was some sort of theater, another man walked from where my aunt left her car, stepping into the scene like some dramatic hero of the third act, the climax of the story.
"This man here is the owner of this…" the policeman raised his eyes and took a look at the shed, "this apartment." The officer sighed. "And he complained that not only did his rent money never arrive, but he was unable to contact you for the last two weeks."
'Two weeks?' I raised my eyes a little bit. 'But I'm living here for only thirteen days?' I thought, baffled by how poorly this scheme was prepared.
