The Lost Window

The two workmen both take two sugars in their tea. The younger one smells fresh, like some kind of man deodorant. The older one coughs, and sighs intermittently. Our front door and windows are open, and the air inside the house smells of industrial adhesive.

 

Earlier the older one dropped a lap-top sized window and it smashed through the gutter outside and landed in the wet bark chippings of the front garden. It looks lost, out of context, like a lone robot eye, squinting at the sky.