The sound of a pencil scratching against paper catches my attention before I even understand what Marco is doing.
I’m sitting at the small table in the cabin, a cup of tea already cold between my hands, when I notice him walking back and forth, measuring walls, frowning, murmuring numbers almost under his breath. There’s a sheet of paper resting on the kitchen counter, covered in crooked lines, arrows, and notes I can’t decipher at first glance.
— If we knock down this wall here… — he says, more to himself than to me, pointing at the divider between the bedroom and the improvised little office — we’d gain almost a meter and a half.
I lift my gaze slowly, following his gesture.
— A meter and a half for what? — I ask, without irony, just curious.
Marco turns toward me with a half-smile,
