“Yes, I own a coat rack,” Nick parroted, already vexed. “It’s in the hall,” he said, gesturing passive aggressively to the nearest door. Said coat rack maybe also had a variety of things that were not hats and coats hanging from it, because space was space – and he didn’t often have visitors, anyway, so what did it matter if there was room for their coat? He certainly didn’t – shouldn’t – care what she thought.

“Make yourself at home,” he added snidely. He had no choice but to be snide, here: if he wasn’t, there would only be encroaching despair.

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