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The old wooden floor creaked as I steppedacross the threshold of this aging house. There was a cheap mat just inside the door. The mat was there to hide the years of wear from countless footsteps that the floor had supported. Although clean,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], it needed to be replaced.
I felt claustrophobic as I entered the narrow living room, which was filled with old musty overstuffed furniture that today would be collector's items. Sitting on the couch were two women, a little older than my mom. Across from the women sat a man in workman's clothes. He wore khaki slacks and a khaki shirt, neatly pressed but without starch,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and polished work books. He was about 10 years older than my dad; I'd say about 45 years old. They smiled as Mike and I walked past them,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], heading for the kitchen, which lead to the porch that overlooked the back yard. I smiled back shyly.
"Who are those people?" I asked.

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