An Expedition into the Underworld of Real Estate
Water gushed from the fire hydrants and cascaded onto the streets. Children frolicked and splashed themselves to cool off from the concrete heat of the city.
Amidst this scene, a car maneuvered through the bustling street and stopped at a traffic light. Seizing a mischievous opportunity, several teenagers rushed to the hydrant to cover its mouth in a way that created an artificial hose.
The teens directed the torrent straight into the open window of the stationary car, soaking the driver within.
Cheers and laughter erupted as the boisterous youth celebrated their perfect aim.
However, as the car pulled over and the driver stepped out, the jovial scene swiftly turned into an uneasy stillness that pierced the summer heat.
My father, drenched, walked over to the teens who had fallen silent.
In the best English he could string together, he asked, “Which one of you is responsible?”
No one responded.
“Ok, if no one speaks up, it means you know what you did was wrong,” my father declared.
The silence persisted.
