“I feel a bit like … I don’t know. Like I did, or maybe I still do, but not the same. The roof’s been patched but the shutters are still broken.” “And before?” “Water got in everywhere. No floods, just a steady drip somewhere impossible to locate. Always about three degrees colder than I’d like to be.” “Ah. What changed?” “I’m painting now.” I can paint now, again. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t even want to fix the shutters, I just want to flood the damn house.” She cleared her throat. “No, I’m lying. I don’t want a flood, but I don’t even want the house.” A pause. “I want to light the house
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