The Uncle.
That house. That room. In that room, the old man. We put clean sheets on the bed, clean covers on the duvet and pillows. We opened the windows and curtains, to let in clean new air, whilst the old man changed into clean pajamas in the bathroom. Back in his bed, both arms stretched out on the duvet, the man looked content, as neat as the neatly fitted, smooth, totally uncrumpled covers. Why does this make me happy?
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