December 18th, 2002

Ms. Solitude

 Lake Eliot I


Eve finally breaks through the lath and plaster of the wall between the dining room and kitchen. Dusty debris is all over the place, a real mess. But nevertheless the effect is surprising. The room now is much more open, less claustrophobic.

My soon-to-be-ex-wife: cute in her overalls, clear plastic goggles, a big screwdriver in one hand and a crowbar in the other. Hair pulled back in a pony tail, wisps flying about here and there. Darting, restless dark brown eyes. Paint-spattered sneakers.

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