In the closet, the curtain rods had been installed at two different heights.
I stared at them.
“Wendell, I’m not 1.20 meters tall.”
“Not yet.”
I turned around abruptly.
He raised both hands.
“Bad joke.”
“Terrible.”
“I worked too much alone.”
This one made me smile despite myself.
We then entered the room at the front of the house.
It was unfinished, except for a large window overlooking the walnut tree.
A simple wooden rocking chair was placed next to it.
Wendell leaned against the door frame.
“I thought it could be a sewing workshop.”
“I don’t know how to sew.”
“I know.”
“So why do you think that?”
“Because in every house I’ve ever known, there was a room that someone called the sewing room, even if nobody sewed.”
I laughed.
That sound surprised me.
The echo resounded
