Her smile is patient. “Can I come in? To help you.”
“Help,” I parrot. “With what?”
I feel like an idiot.
She glances past me into the house. At the hammer on the floor. At the crooked nail barely hanging from the wall.
Her lips twitch.
“Everything,” she says.
I exhale, stepping back to let her in. “Yeah. That tracks.”
She steps inside, pausing just past the doorway.
Her gaze moves slowly across the room. “Wow,” she says. “It has potential.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
She sets the bags down.
"What’s all this?"
"Things you need." She smiles at me. “Give me a tour?”
I hesitate… then nod. “Yeah. Sure.”
I walk her through the house, pointing things out as we go.
The kitchen.
The hallway.
The bedrooms.
She listens, nods, and asks a few questions.
When we make our way back to the living room, she crouches and opens the bags, pulling out spackle, a putty knife, a level, a tape measure, and a toolkit.
“I figured you might not have some of this,” she says. “They’re necessities.”
I blink. “I was going to get those things.”
“When?”
“…Eventually.”
She hums softly.
I gesture toward the cleaning supplies leaning against the wall. Then at the hammer on the floor.
“I brought a few things,” I say defensively.
She doesn’t seem impressed.
“I have a hammer and nails.”
Her lips twitch.
