The bedroom is hard to see into, with the lights dim and shrouded. Though, from outside, you can barely feel the dozen eyes staring at you from within. You step inside, and reach for the lightswitch. As you flip it on, you find a room full of papers- bills, mortgages, and mail is strewn across the space. It’s dusty, and your eyes tear up with grief as you enter. The grief isn’t your own, and is an odd sensation in your chest.
You take a look at some of the documents around- picking up a stack off the bed. There’s plenty of receipts for sold items- vintage furniture and heirlooms. There’s multiple mortgages pulled out for the house- as well as loans in support of it. What strikes you as particularly odd, though, are the high interest rates on the loans. With how high they were, you were surprised the family pulled them out at all- if the rising prices didn’t take their home away, surely the interest alone would topple them over.
Seeing nothing else of note, you take your leave. But before going, you grab one of the loan statements. Something about it felt wrong- almost predatory in how much it was asking of the homeowners. Maybe you can do something with it.
You take a look at some of the documents around- picking up a stack off the bed. There’s plenty of receipts for sold items- vintage furniture and heirlooms. There’s multiple mortgages pulled out for the house- as well as loans in support of it. What strikes you as particularly odd, though, are the high interest rates on the loans. With how high they were, you were surprised the family pulled them out at all- if the rising prices didn’t take their home away, surely the interest alone would topple them over.
Seeing nothing else of note, you take your leave. But before going, you grab one of the loan statements. Something about it felt wrong- almost predatory in how much it was asking of the homeowners. Maybe you can do something with it.