Her words didn't seem rude to me, because I expected it from a person that secluded like her.
I don't remember how I spent my very first evening in this big gloomy house. But I know that at the end of the day I was very exhausted from travels and was very happy to finally appear in my room, inspite of it being very cold and empty. There was a big bed, that was taking up a good half of that room, covered with pure white but rough sheets. There was a chest right beside it, that was mostly used as a nightstand. The first thing to notice in the room was a big window, the only light source in that facility, with a very primitive to that room plain white curtains.
The fatigue took over the fear, so it didn't take me long to fall asleep.
The next morning I woke up very early and didn't feel tired. I would wear the same close as the day before, because I couldn't afford carrying a big suitcase full of, how it seems to me, useless rugs. But it didn't look presentable enough, to be wored the day I was supposed to meet the owner of that house. I quickly put on a grey dress with some ruches on the hem. It was old but was the only not i-cannot-afford-anything-better dress that I owned.
I went downstairs.
