It was a place of familiar geometry, of beams and varnished cupboards, of starched curtains and ivory table linen. Stalwart lines built upon froth. It was a place of curled shadows and dust that glistered over window panes, and of unremarkable cruelties.
He kept a small wooden box of wedding rings at the bottom of his bedroom cabinet, under the winter blankets. The rings were his gift, and he was a generous man.