Since this woman became a believer #80520
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Since this woman became a believer, she has been a source of trouble in the house. By Elísabetu Kristínu Jökulsdóttir.
She came back on Monday and her tired eyes shone. Varnish is a wonderful material, as if it were alive, she said, you should see how shiny the stairs are. Can I see the black paint again? I opened a can for her and went to do something else and must have spent an hour serving a customer who needed wood for a porch and when I returned the woman was still looking into the can.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but this is so tempting. I'm beginning to understand the darkness."
I was dealing with a man with a porch, I said to reassure her that it was all fine, but I felt so unnecessarily condescending and regretted it.
A terrace, she repeated, and her expression became dreamy. When I've finished the inside of the house as it should be, I'll build a terrace, or do you know what I want most of all, she asked, almost dragging me out onto the flat land outside the shop. Look at my skylight, I want to have a balcony built on this side, I know it's the north side but the sun sets behind the mountains and the bay turns red, it's wonderful, the kitchen is sometimes like a disco in the spring, but there on the balcony I could sit and watch the sunset. And in the winter I look at the stars, the Big Dipper is visible past midnight and all the other stars, just think, I can look up at the sky, I just wear wool socks. I always wear white wool socks, she added after a short silence. What do you think of that?
Well, I said, not feeling like I should be banging on the skylight, there's going to be construction going on, I said, and I saw her in my mind's eye on the balcony. She was wearing white wool socks that reached mid-thigh and a loose white fleece sweater, holding a cup of cocoa and whipped cream dripping from her lips. She had just woken up and was sound asleep.
She came back on Monday and her tired eyes shone. Varnish is a wonderful material, as if it were alive, she said, you should see how shiny the stairs are. Can I see the black paint again? I opened a can for her and went to do something else and must have spent an hour serving a customer who needed wood for a porch and when I returned the woman was still looking into the can.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but this is so tempting. I'm beginning to understand the darkness."
I was dealing with a man with a porch, I said to reassure her that it was all fine, but I felt so unnecessarily condescending and regretted it.
A terrace, she repeated, and her expression became dreamy. When I've finished the inside of the house as it should be, I'll build a terrace, or do you know what I want most of all, she asked, almost dragging me out onto the flat land outside the shop. Look at my skylight, I want to have a balcony built on this side, I know it's the north side but the sun sets behind the mountains and the bay turns red, it's wonderful, the kitchen is sometimes like a disco in the spring, but there on the balcony I could sit and watch the sunset. And in the winter I look at the stars, the Big Dipper is visible past midnight and all the other stars, just think, I can look up at the sky, I just wear wool socks. I always wear white wool socks, she added after a short silence. What do you think of that?
Well, I said, not feeling like I should be banging on the skylight, there's going to be construction going on, I said, and I saw her in my mind's eye on the balcony. She was wearing white wool socks that reached mid-thigh and a loose white fleece sweater, holding a cup of cocoa and whipped cream dripping from her lips. She had just woken up and was sound asleep.