We arrive at Lukas’ house. It’s brand new. It has two levels and an attic. Some part of the walls are made of thick glass. The house is made of a strange metal that looks almost like mercury.

“Have you cleaned lately?” I ask.

“Of course not! Why would I clean?”

“Ahm, because this is your house,” I say.

Lukas pushes open the door. It’s metallic and is not making any sound. It’s different from the house I rented where the door handle is old and worn.

“Maids come in every Friday and clean up before my father arrives for the weekend,” he informs.

“You mean I won’t be able...