Chris Walker
A moment later, the door opened, and a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair, short and slightly overweight, wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt, stood before us. The bags under her eyes were visible on her unmade-up face. To me, she looked like someone who had just woken up. And what was even crazier was that I could smell something unpleasant. I couldn’t tell if it was coming from her body or from inside the house.
Ah, one more thing. The inside of the house wasn’t much different from the front yard. It was messy, though there was no scattered food, but things weren’t where they should be, like piles of clothes—clean or dirty—in the sofa's corner, books scattered on the table, dusty plastic flowers on the nightstand, and dirty shoes scattered on the floor.
“Who are you? Have
