the tea towels that hung on a line by the stove.
when she came back, she’d found some clothes for him, just a shirt and canvas trousers and a belt. he put them on, and she tore a fresh tea towel into strips and bandaged him tightly again. she was badly worried about his hand; not only were the wounds bleeding freely still, but the rest of the hand was swollen and red. but he said nothing about it, and neither did she.
then she made the coffee and toasted some stale bread, and they took it into the grand room at the front of the house, overlooking the city. when he’d 