The evening was visibly pregnant with another night when a dear friend decided to never use her front door again, assigning the function of both leaving and entering to the window beside the great oak. I thought it was quite silly of her. That particular window was too high and too narrow to have been the right choice.
“Why would you not use the bedroom window instead?” I asked her impatiently as she struggled to get inside her house.
“Why would you not drink some wine instead?” She replied halfway in.
Ever since I haven’t been the same. Sometimes I spend hours trying to figure out impossible mathematical problems, at other times, I drink wine.
My friend spends a massive chunk of her time getting in and out of that window and her laughter has acquired an unusually lively ring.