Think of All the Money We’ll Save

The window salesman tries to sell us dissipating light and reduced noise from the exterior. I’m only half listening, but you gifted him your full attention at the first knock. Argon between panes diffuses sunlight so the harsh glare – how old are these? Old as the house. What you see here now won’t make it through. Fog and condensation we can’t wipe away, like breath from someone peering in. One desperate summer, you too sold door to door, sweating in a full suit. Some don’t open, some shutters stay shut, sleepy eyelids. We have more windows than we can afford to replace. In a special zipped up case like a body bag or a cover for a musical instrument, he carries a window to nowhere to show us all the possibilities.