“Why would you help me after what I did?”
“Because I don’t want to become the sort of person who makes a mistake and then refuses to correct it.”
I held out my hand.
“But I need you to let me work slowly, and you need to stop pulling at it.”
She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“All right.”
The Unexpected Art of Fixing a Mess
Harold leaned over the seat and handed me the small bottle of olive oil that had come with his meal.
“I have no idea whether this will work,” he said, “but it seems more promising than another argument.”
I accepted it.
“Thank you.”
I explained to Brittany that I would test a tiny section first and avoid pulling at the extensions or disturbing the attachment points.
She watched every movement nervously.
“Please don’t touch the clips.”
“I have no intention of doing that.”
