I went out of the small bedroom I changed in. Andre – or whoever the f**k he is – lent me some of his clothes. I wore a long-sleeved oversized beige shirt coupled with maroon trousers and black leather boots. I definitely looked like a dork. I’d only ever wear clothes like these in middle-school plays, which I skipped countless of times.
I headed to the small kitchen that overlooked the farm. There stood a middle-aged woman I wasn’t familiar with. She was chopping vegetables on the counter and constantly adding it to the brewing stew. Her ginger hair was tied up in a frizzy bun as she worked.
The huge windows were opened wide and brought a lot of sunlight in the room, giving it a warm and cozy ambience. I could hear the hens cooing from a short distance. The warm breeze freshened up the
