I walked into his studio apartment and the heat was cranked. Along one wall an exhausted plaid couch from the 1970s with a pleated skirt and arm rests scratched away by generations of cats feigned interest. The Engineer had pushed a folding table up to the bed and on the other side he had placed the only other chair in the apartment that he offered to me. I sat.
Someday one of us is going to have to write about men's homes.