Reparations

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Passages

    

She surveyed him from atop the roof, holding tight to a cordless drill. It looked overly big in her hand, weighing heavy. The glare off the tin made it appear as if she were floating, a blue collar angel, clad in paint-splattered jeans and greasy canvas jacket. A red bandanna held her dreads in check, though just barely. They seemed to be alive, swaying in the breeze, Medusa-like. 

She loomed, very serious, not her usual jovial self.

“Whatcha doin up there?” his attempt at frivolous banter, but she was having none of it.

“Roof repairs” she responded without a hint of blatancy.

“Can I help?” he implored with as much sincerity as he could muster and truly he wanted nothing more than to do for her everything on a to-do list that by now was most certainly many pages.

“I don’t need help” she flatlined. With that he was dismissed. It was clear to him that he had left her alone for far too long and while he was busy at home trying to untangle his life, she was here untangling from him. 

     
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