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There was a knock on my door yesterday.

I asked – “who is there?” A man answered me – “a gasman.” I open the door, the man asks – “Are you 18?” I shake my head from side to side with innocent eyes and say “nope.” He asks – “WHAT … do the parents come home late?” I answer in the same way, only now shaking my head up and down – “yeah”. He wrote something down in his notebook and left.

I remember how a couple of years ago I was surprised that I was allowed on a school ticket to all sorts of museums and parks. And I thought: when will I start to grow old and people will stop believing me. However, soon I am 22. And while people still think that I live with my parents, on my mother’s neck and go to grade 8.

But in fact, I probably did the wrong thing, because the gas workers should be allowed in for routine gas checks. But I didn’t think he would leave. I thought that the gas is checked even if there are no adults at home. It’s just that in a day I was so tired of solving adult problems (I went to energy sales, called, wrote, negotiated advertising, worked, etc.) that in the evening I no longer had the strength to play the role of an adult girl again.

Do you think the gasman will forgive me and come back to check the pipes?

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