Page 132 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Temporary room.

Temporary life.

The word claws at me.

I press my palms to the edge of the worktable and exhale.

Don’t do something dumb.

Like ask her to move in.

My eyes flick around the workshop.

Then I think about the old cabin.

It’s small.

Old.

Creaky.

Half the insulation probably predates the internet.

Should’ve torn it down and rebuilt it years ago.

Should’ve redefined the property line.

Cut back some of the trees.

Fixed the access road.

I could still do that.

I mean, would that be so bad?

The thoughts sneak in before I can shut them down.

Making this place more livable.

Waking up with her every morning.

Coffee on the stove.

Her laughter in this place instead of silence.

Company stopping by now and then.

Willow and Thatcher coming over for dinner.

Kelly and Evan coming to fish in the creek behind the workshop.

My chance at having a normal life—a real life.

One where I’m not doomed to be alone forever.

I shake my head.

Slow down.