Dave realized that maybe he shouldn’t have given Rhonda the hint he gave her. And he felt ashamed.

“And don’t ever do that again! Ever!” hissed Rhonda. And she started pacing. And tried to figure out what to do next. She was not at all happy that Dave had just done what he had just done. It was too fast. Too soon. And she suddenly turned to him and roared, “And GET OUTTA HERE!!!” And she stormed into her house and slammed the door behind her.

Dave was stunned. And stood motionless. He felt like he had a boat anchor inside him.

And he tried to figure out what had just happened. And why Rhonda had gotten so angry at him. And why she had yelled at him.

The aftermath of the yell was the quietest quiet and the stillest stillness he had ever experienced.

And he realized that he hadn’t breathed in a while.

And so he exhaled.

And wondered how long he had been holding his breath.

And then he scoffed. And laughed sardonically. And he didn’t do much sardonically. Because he wasn’t a sardonic guy.

And he faced the door that Rhonda had just retreated behind.

And he raised his arms up a little, palms open, and looked upward as if he was asking the universe or God or anyone who would answer what the heck had just happened.

But the universe didn’t answer. And God didn’t answer.

And Rhonda wasn’t there to answer.

So he dropped his arms and his head and sighed, “Jeezum Crow,” which was a euphemism for something his grandmother didn’t like him to say.

And he grabbed his snowmobile helmet and his gloves and his balaclava. And was about to go when he stopped, turned, and looked at the door Rhonda had just slammed behind her—which she was on just the other side of, standing still, trying to make sense of what had just happened. And Dave thought about opening that door and going inside and apologizing and trying to make right what he had made wrong.

But then he figured he’d deal with everything another day when she was less upset, and he turned to go. And he pulled the wobbly wooden porch door open.

And then he pushed on the levered latch on the silver aluminum storm door, and when Rhonda heard it pop open, she almost called to Dave and told him not to go.

But didn’t.

And Dave was just about out the door—when he stopped, because he realized that he wanted his painting. If Rhonda couldn’t appreciate it, there was no reason for her to have it. So he went over to it and picked it up and was about to head out the door again when he got really hot inside. And—angry. And he wasn’t the kind of guy who got angry.

And he suddenly strode up to the door Rhonda was standing on the other side of and facing, and yelled, “HEY, RHONDA!!!”

Rhonda jumped a little. And she wasn’t one to jump. But she was surprised by how loud Dave had just been. And by how angry he seemed.