After we built the house of our dreams it was all downhill. Arguing became our way of life. Jan left and came back more times than I care to remember.

Divorce came as a blessed relief. The truce that went with it didn’t extend to the house. So we cut it in two. The wall I built to bisect it was an uncomfortable but necessary solution.

We grew older and wiser—started talking again. Eventually Jan said, ‘let’s just tear the bloody thing down.’

Faded boards either side showed where the wall between us had been. Jan took one look at the uneven halves. ‘You bastard, Harry. Your sides nearly a foot wider. Well you can put it straight back up. In the right spot this time…no wait…’ She indicated a line with her foot. It compensated for the space I’d cribbed and threw a little extra in for good measure.

(this is an edited version of the story The narrow hallway, published on this day, 2010. See about small stories about love)

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