Instead of a dark, dusty garage, I suddenly found myself in a real home. The old furniture was neatly arranged, the floor was cleaned, and a crocheted blanket lay on the bed.
A bunch of dried herbs hung on the wall, like in a countryside house. The air was filled with the scent of peppermint and lavender. In the corner, there was a candle and a few old photographs. In those pictures, I recognized the guest: young, with children, a man in uniform, and a smile in her eyes.
I didn’t know what to say. I felt surprise, gratitude… and a strange warmth.
I let a homeless woman stay in my garage — the next day I opened the door and was shocked.
— Sorry if I went overboard, — she said, bringing out a cup of tea from behind an old cupboard. — I just don’t like chaos. Even if it’s not mine.
— You… did all this in one day?
— I was bored, — she smiled. — And you gave me shelter. I wanted to thank you somehow.
I let a homeless woman stay in my garage — the next day I opened the door and was shocked.
I sat down on a chair. I was silent. And then I realized: I had never truly felt at home in this house — until she came. And she brought order not just to the space, but inside me as well.
