Instead of a dark, dusty garage, I suddenly found myself in a real house. The old furniture was neatly arranged, the floor was cleaned, and a crocheted blanket lay on the bed.

A bouquet of dried herbs hung on the wall, like in a country house. The air smelled of peppermint and lavender. A candle burned in the corner and a few old photographs hung. I recognized the guest in these photos: a young woman with children, a man in a uniform and a smile in his eyes.

No description.

I didn’t know what to say. I felt surprise, gratitude… and a strange warmth.

I let a homeless woman live in my garage – the next day I opened the door and was shocked.

“I’m sorry if I overdid it,” she said, taking a cup of tea from behind an old cabinet. “I just don’t like chaos. Even if it’s not my chaos.”

“You… did all this in one day?”

I made it easier for a homeless woman to live in my garage: the next day I opened the garage door and was in shock

“I was bored,” she smiled. “And you gave me shelter. I wanted to thank you somehow.”

I let a homeless woman live in my garage — the next day I opened the door and was in shock.

I made it easier for a homeless woman to live in my garage: the following day I opened the garage door and was in shock

I sat down in a chair. I was silent. And then I realized: I had never felt at home in this house — until she came. And she brought order not only to the space, but also to me.