A couple of weeks ago, my husband, having gathered to see the apartments, met with an agent - a young girl Anna. We got into the car and went to the address. It was an early Saturday morning, the husband was tormented by a hammer, and even more — a feeling of shame for the fact that from his breath the glass in the car quickly began to squeeze.
But the girl was not better - on the rear glass of the car clearly showed the footprints of women.
So we drove, red and silent, all the way.