Your uncle was a weird reclusive man. He was the artsy type, but never made cent off his work. He was a sculptor or so he claimed, but you never could recall seeing his work. Your family had made conscious effort not to associate with him through out your life for being a failure with no money but you always saw the good in him. You made an effort to send letters and when you got of old enough you sent him money every now and then.

But the biggest oddity about your uncle was his ability to keep a home. If he made no money how did he pay for his small home in suburbs? Your parents theorized that he sold drug, you assumed he must of found some mix of tax loopholes and social services to keep himself afloat.

While you never thought much of your letters and small donations, it meant the world to him. And for that reason he left you, his nephew, his home and all his belongings after his death from undiagnosed cancer.

You move in shortly after.