The things we do
"Where do you keep your matches, Miles?" asked Nora, going through the pockets of his jacket.
"Ain't got no matches. Not any more. But there's a lighter, look in my backpack."
He leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes for a moment. They had been walking for hours. The abandoned house was in the outskirts of Annapolis, and they were going to make camp there for the night. It had a fireplace and some leftover planks to boot.
"What is this?" Nora asked suddenly.
She was holding a piece of cloth that could, charitably be described as a scarf. Maybe. It was made of purple wool, full of holes, but it was long enough to be wrapped around a neck.
"It looks as if a chimp made it," continued Nora, puzzled.
Miles blushed to the roots of his hair. Nora looked at him, then at the scarf, then back at him.
"Miles Matheson, please tell me you didn't knit this."
"It was cold," he said defensively. "Have you been to New Hampshire in the winter?"
She just stared.
"We had burnt everything we had. Books, spare clothes. Then I got my hands on a lady's sweater. It was too small for me but..."
"But?" she pushed him.
"One of the women in the militia showed me how to unravel it and knit it as a scarf. Can we please not talk about this? Ever again?"
Nora laughed so hard, tears run down her cheeks. She actually had to sit down to recover.
"Just one question", she said, when she managed to breathe again, "why didn't this woman knit it for you?"
"She said that her days of making clothes for men were gone with the power. She marched off to Philly anyway, so...So please stop, ok?"
"Just one more question, please, Miles," she begged, tears of mirth still on her cheeks. "Where did you find the needles?"
"I didn't find them, I made them from tree branches, ok? Give it a rest!"
She stopped laughing long enough to look at him.
"I never thought the day would come that I would have something to blackmail you with."
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