She narrated.

She stood at the stove and said, to nobody, “This is going to be too much garlic and I don’t care.” She said, “Whoever built these cabinets hated women under five foot six.” She told him the plots of films while she folded laundry, badly, getting the endings wrong on purpose, and the first time he corrected her he did it by pointing at the wall where a poster wasn’t, with an expression of such profound scorn that she had to leave the room to laugh.

She drew him animals on napkins.

She started with a rabbit, which was terrible, and he took the pen out of her hand and drew a better one, and after that it was a competition that ran for four weeks and produced somewhere around ninety napkins, which Harrison found in a drawer in July and which are, at the time of this writing, in a box in a closet on Ellerby Lane.