We’re waiting in the subway station for the guy who’s going to buy a set of shelves we don’t need anymore.
We took it apart (thanks IKEA!), loaded up the heavy glass shelves and the metal bits on a dolly, wheeled it down to the subway station (after confirming and re-confirming over the past hour what line he was taking down from the Bronx), even went so far as to bump the dolly down the subway station stairs one at a time so that he wouldn’t have to haul it down himself, and arrived at the station right at 1:00, like we agreed.
Then Katie gets a text.
“He says, ‘Leaving the house now,’” she says, looking up from her phone.