Greta said when he edged open the front door, peering at her through the crack. He wore a ratty robe, exactly the kind of thing he would treasure and she would burn. No doubt they would argue over it if they were — but of course they weren’t and Greta had no intention of ever sharing her closet again. “Hello, Greta.” He didn’t seem inclined to let her in. Instead, he stared at her through eyes still heavy with sleep, looking slightly bewildered, as if he couldn’t figure out what she was doing on his front step. She gave him a minute to reach the appropriate conclusion. When patience did not produce the intended result — he continued to stare at her — she said, “They’re installing your home theater today. Along with some of your bedroom furniture.” He brightened at that. “My television is coming?” Still, he didn’t move away from the door. She did not like to be aggressive, but short of main force, how did one go about shifting him out of the way?
