Andriy grew up in a small village of just two hundred houses. Many of his relatives lived either right next door, literally on the other side of the fence, or within a hundred kilometers. Then…
Andriy suddenly shook his head, not wanting to remember his past anymore. He started the engine and drove home to his wife and son.
A few weeks later, his relatives started calling him. Andriy didn’t answer and carefully ignored them. When his aunts couldn’t reach him, they started writing to him on every social media site he had ever registered on.
“Your father is dead. The house is in your name. Come right away. Something needs to be done with the house,” his cousin found a solution: he sent a message to Andriy’s wife.
“Listen, you should go. It’s a little uncomfortable – we weren’t even on the hill… This is not human, Andriy.”
“We’ve already discussed this. They can do whatever they want with the house.”
“They can’t do anything with it, you know. Legally. It would just rot. Maybe they should sell it? The relatives will buy it – they will buy it. For a token amount.”
“I don’t want to go there. Not at all.”
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