"The building's HVAC flow is low after five. I prop the door when I get back from the facility." He didn't look up from the hardware. "Fifteen minutes."
"Every day?"
"If we're in town and it's a practice day."
"So I walked in on your quarter-hour window," I said.
"Yes."
"Lucky me."
The instruction sheet had six steps, each illustrated. There were no words. Step three had an arrow pointing at something that might have been a washer or a belt buckle. It was genuinely unclear.
"Did you read this?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Do you understand step three?"
"The inner nut seats first, then the outer nut threads over the stem to lock it in place."
I looked at step three again. The arrow was still inscrutable. "You got that from this diagram?"
"I got it from looking at the hardware."
Of course he did.
I sat cross-legged on the floor. Pratt was on one side of the box with the instruction sheet and the lamp body. I was on the other with the hardware bag and good intentions.
There was a version of him that existed on the ice, behind glass. Now, I watched the careful way he held the stem while I threaded the inner nut. He was completely present for a task that anyone else would have half-assed while watching something on their phone.
Pratt was fully present.
"Pass me the cord collar," he said.
"Which one is the cord collar?"
"Cylindrical. Black plastic. Threads onto the lower stem before the base seats."
I found it and held it up. He confirmed with a nod, and I passed it across. I reached beyond him for a washer that had migrated toward his side of the setup. His shoulder was right there, and his neck, with the line of his jaw.
"We're missing a wrench," I said, because I needed to say something.
"We don't need one. The inner nut seats by hand."
"Are you sure? Step four seems like a wrench situation."
"Step four is a diagram problem. The nut's hand-tight." He glanced at me. "Trust the hardware."
"I will put that on a plaque."
We set the shade last. Pratt held the stem vertical, and I seated the shade bracket over the socket, checked the level, and locked it down. He let go. The lamp stood on its own.
"Plug," I said.
He picked up the cord end, walked it to the outlet near the baseboard, crouched down, plugged it in, and stood back.
"Your call," he said.
