script-sure

She pulled a folded paper from her jeans, opened it, and said, “Look, he gave me these quotes from Scripture on love. They’re all about love. From the Internet. Do you want to hear them?” He was the handyman. His name was Ed. She would spend the next six months telling him – not the handyman, not Ed, but him -- how he’d changed her life. Now, she just stood, with the papers in her hand, waiting. Someone called from the dining room. She quickly refolded the papers, slipped them back into her jeans pocket. “They’re about love,” she repeated, looking down, now, away. He’d heard her the first time. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what could be said. The voice, again. From the other room. She shrugged, turned away. He watched her go. She wasn’t leaving, now. She’d already done that. He cracked an egg and dropped it into the skillet. It bubbled up in the butter. He broke the yoke.