He stopped. He actually stopped walking midstep and looked at her. She held it up. I bought new curtains for this window. He stared at her.
You have to be kidding me. She was already laughing. I measured the windows a different size. The old ones wouldn't fit. You could have bought curtains without the rod.
I needed a new rod. Claire, just hang them straight this time. He looked at her. She looked at him. The whole year uh was in that sentence.
The ladder and the screwdriver and the drill she had in charged and the curtains that were supposed to stop her from watching for his truck and the afternoon light changing in the room and forwards that had started everything. My drills in the garage, he said. I know where your drill is and it's charged as it should be. He went and got the drill. He set up his ladder, a better ladder now, 8 ft.
All rungs present and accounted for. And Clare stood below him holding the screws. And they argued about the placement and whether he should go two inches higher, which he said was unnecessary. And she said was essential. And he went 2 in higher.
And when he stepped down and they both looked at it, the curtains were perfect and he would not be telling her that. It's crooked. She said, "It is not crooked. Left side is low. The left side is level.
I used a level. You used a level last time, too. And they were level last time. They were level last time, she admitted. I just liked watching you defend them.
He looked at her. You've been doing that for a year. It's an effective system. She tilted her head at the curtains. They're good.
They're the same quality as the last ones. They're better. I have better test now. Your taste was fine before. It was good.
Now it's better. She looked at him. Things improve when you give them time and room to grow. He stood in the living room of their house, their house. The words still knew enough to land with weight every time, and looked at her, standing in the afternoon light that came through the window above the curtains.