Old cemetery. Stories

– My name is Cole Eagle, I am the owner of this house. – He sat opposite Victor, put the diplomat on the table and opened it.

Inside the diplomat was covered in black velvet, and he noticed the initials of K.I.

“You have a great diplomat,” said Victor.

– Handwork. My initials are here, and he pointed to the top wall. The letters were gold.

And at the bottom of the diplomat were all the necessary papers for Cole’s house to become Victor’s.

“Now, let’s move on to our sale,” he answered and climbed over to get the papers.

Victor carefully examined the paper. His gaze fell on Cole’s expensive Swiss watch, but he did not notice this look.

“Documents for a house, for land, for water supply,” he said. – There is a contract too. Here is one copy for me, the second. Sign up. He held out an elegant dark blue gold-framed handle to Victor. He took and signed where necessary.

“Well, here our transaction is completed, I will wait for your bank transfer,” he said.

“Fine, in a couple of days you will receive the money,” Victor answered.

He had finished his coffee by then. And Cole has already left.

By evening, he reached his new home.

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The house stood alone on a hill. Centennial elms stood along the road. There were no guard lattices, and indeed, why they are needed. The path to the house was paved with granite.