The Aris Floorplan

[Verse 1]
The Hydro bill taped to Mr. Aris' door
is glowing from the lamp inside his four-and-a-quarter.
He's on his knees, a crowbar in his hand,
not making noise I'd ever understand.
He levers up a single piece of pine,
a perfect rectangle across the grain's design.

[Chorus]
Every house has a loose board,
hiding something it can't afford.
A little space against the strain,
sealed up and then lived in again.

[Verse 2]
November's first real freeze coats all the glass,
I trace the frost and watch the minutes pass.
He works as if he's laying down new joists,
no splintered edges, none of the wrong force.
He reaches in, a shadow pulls something out,
then puts it back—a whisper, not a shout.

[Bridge]
"You build a beautiful box," she said to me,
"with perfect, useless, airtight joinery."

[Chorus]
Every house has a loose board,
hiding something it can't afford.
A little space against the strain,
sealed up and then lived in again.
(Vocal Countermelody: What are you keeping safe? What can't you erase?)

[Outro]
The nail slips back into the floor.
I don't look anymore.