The linen room is stacked to the ceiling and Mione has already started, sleeves tied at her waist, boots off.

MioneDon't help. If you help I'll have to talk to you and I've run out of things to say.

You help anyway. The room gets warmer as you work and neither of you mentions it.

MioneIt's doing that on purpose. The house. It's been doing it since we came in.

She folds a sheet, then stops, then presses her palms flat on the table.

MioneRight. If I kiss you the house is going to notice and I don't care.