I lived in a three-story building. The building was dirty and deteriorating. I lived on the third floor. On the second floor there lived a family, friends of ours. I was walking on the second floor when a lady completely dressed in black (she was about 40, I could not recognize her face) appeared. When she saw me, she came to me and told me that the father of my mother's friend had died and they were having a wake for him. (My mother's friend has two siblings - Nelly and Serge -- and a father of a rather advanced age. Serge is 27 years old. I met him at a party where he asked me to go steady and I definitely refused). I did not know whether to go in and offer my sympathy to my mother's friend because I was afraid to see her brother. At last I decided that the correct thing to do was to stop by their house and accompany them in their sorrow. I was very well received (I felt very good about this) and I offered my sympathy to all the relatives of the deceased. Suddenly I realized that Serge was isolated in a corner, crying. I felt so sad, seeing him in this situation, that I went over to him in order to console him. At first he refused me, but then he told me that I was the only love he had left in the world, and that if I left him, he would commit suicide. At that moment I felt obliged to say yes to him, but after a while I reacted and told him the truth: I was not in love with him; I just loved him dearly, as one loves one's brother, and that I would help him to find a girl who would really love and understand him. Afterwards, I appeared walking through the building. I found that they had painted and renovated it. It looked new. I felt satisfied because I had been the one with the idea to fix up the house.