The heavy drops of cold autumn rain tap on the roof, as if whispering in my ear: "Rejoice, appreciate that you are in warmth, in dryness. You could be under the chilly October winds right now"... Just a short while ago, we were an ordinary family with the most mundane worries and predictable plans for the future. But that damn hurricane deprived us of everything overnight: our home, our homeland, our hopes... And now, my husband and I are refugees. Fate has thrown us far away, a humanitarian mission dispersing thousands of suddenly destitute people all over the world, and that's how we ended up in this small town in California... In a distant, foreign country, where generally no one cares if you're alive, well-fed, or how you're doing...

You introduced yourself as a volunteer and provided an empty room in your apartment to accommodate refugees. The agency immediately warned my husband and me: we are very lucky to have found you as there are no other settlement possibilities in sight.

For several days now, I've noticed how you sneakily, with your frozen gaze, look at my legs, at my chest... And in those moments, I feel like wrapping myself more tightly and adjusting my skirt. Maybe it's just nerves? After all, nothing wrong has happened yet... Today, my husband is leaving for Colorado - finding a job is very difficult, but he was offered a position there. He will be gone for at least a week. We will be alone together with you... Being in the same house with another man feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable for me. But for heaven's sake, does anyone care about my comfort right now?...