“Turn the box sideways,” I said, “before gravity finishes the job on your dignity.”

He looked up, caught out and amused. “I was going to arrive at that solution,” he said, “immediately after trying every possible wrong one first.”

We got coffee by the checkout and talked about badly written assembly instructions and the strange sad music furniture stores play to make you buy a couch.

When he asked for my number, I decided honesty was safer than charm.

“I’m rebuilding a whole life,” I said. “It’s got three kids in it, and a lot of hard boundaries, and not much room for unnecessary chaos. I’m telling you that up front.”

He nodded, and he didn’t look scared off.