“There’s no space for everything,” was a constant complaint. Hoarders have this incessant problem. No room is every big enough for all their ever-growing belongings.
“We’ll make it,” he would reassure.
She was further agitated by his tranquil tenor; how could he not be worried?
There were boxes all around, inside rooms, out in the yard, in the attic. There was a bike in the living room and a cupboard on the porch.
It was too disorienting, and it aggravated the stress.
She left for a walk, but soon returned to find he had actually taken care of it all.
Also part of Friday Fictioneers