Out of the back window he came carrying a bag full of clothes. He climbed up as if this was not his first time but a usual sport. His eyes were lowered, staring at the wooden floor. The one we replaced last month. The one we always removed and replaced just for the sake of . He never carried a bag though. He never had a ticket rapped in his left hand as if he was so afraid of losing it. He brought gifts, letters, stamps, toothbrushes but never tickets. Never just one. Not when we are two living here, building this floor over and over again together. One is not enough for both of us, so why leave me behind and not buy two of them? I guess rebuilding this floor costed too much for us to travel along. Perhaps he wished for another type of floor this time. One that he could built for once on his own.
