Imagine a world where your things disappear because it's his house he owns it, and you never see them again. All without your permission, or knowledge it was moved until you are looking for it.
Imagine being interrupted while fixing a sandwich, or any other tasks, bombarded by by questions on why, and how you are doing something. Every move Mico managed. If you comment it becomes an argument. So you stuff all feelings, and words. Nod, and move in.
Fix it when he leaves. The list is long.
It leaves in 2 days. I can breath again then.
(By the way, i own the house and have put at least 1/2 million of my own cash in it. My name is on the deed.)
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