[Intro] [Woman] Hello? It’s me. Did I catch you at a bad time? [Man] No, I’m just sorting through the hall closet. You sound exactly like a question mark. [Woman] That’s generous. I was aiming for “sorry to bother you.” [Man] You never were very good at that. [Verse 1] [Woman] They found a box at your mother’s house, behind the winter coats and paint. My name is written on the side— though the spelling’s not your strength. [Man] I wrote it in a hurry, you know. We were late for that train to Leeds. [Woman] It was York. And you had two tickets. [Man] You said the station made you sneeze. [Woman] I said the platform smelled like rain. [Man] You said you hated getting wet. [Together] And the little blue umbrella turned inside out before we reached the step. [Chorus] [Woman] There are things we kept by accident, things we kept because we knew. [Man] A photograph, a paper cup, a key that never fit the door we used. [Woman] You remember it one way. [Man] You remember it best. [Together] Somewhere between the two of us, the truth can take a rest. [Verse 2] [Man] There’s a note from that summer kitchen— you promised you would call. [Woman] I did call. You were painting the ceiling. [Man] I was standing in the hall. [Woman] You said, “Leave a message.” [Man] I said, “Come round instead.” [Woman] You always made the simple thing sound harder in your head. [Man] You always made the harder thing look simple when you smiled. [Woman] That isn’t fair. [Man] No, it isn’t. [Woman] But it’s not entirely wrong. [Chorus] [Man] There are things we kept by accident, things we kept because we knew. [Woman] A receipt from the corner shop, two names beneath a faded glue. [Man] You bought the tea. [Woman] You bought the bread. [Together] And we split the last peach on the window ledge, though neither of us was hungry then. [Bridge] [Woman] Are you happy? [Man] That’s a dangerous question. [Woman] I asked it gently. [Man] I know. I’m mostly good. The garden’s too big, the dog thinks he’s a king, and I’m learning how to cook. [Woman] You still burn the onions? [Man] Only when I’m distracted. [Woman] I’m glad you’re distracted by ordinary things. [Man] And you? [Woman] A small flat, a job I like, a daughter who corrects my grammar. [Man] Then she has your timing. [Woman] She has your stubbornness. [Man] That sounds like a compliment. [Woman] It is, now. [Rapid Dialogue] [Man] Did you keep the red scarf? [Woman] You mean the green one? [Man] It was red in the shop window. [Woman] It was green in the daylight. [Man] You wore it on the bridge. [Woman] You dropped your glove. [Man] You laughed for ten minutes. [Woman] You pretended not to mind. [Man] I minded very much. [Woman] I know. [Man] You knew then? [Woman] I knew more than I said. [Man] So did I. [Harmony] [Woman] I kept the part of me that learned your weather. [Man] I kept the quiet that arrived when you were near. [Together] Not to turn the hands back, not to ask for more— just to name the tender things we left beside the door. [Final Chorus] [Woman] There are things we keep by accident, things we keep because we knew. [Man] Some are only paper now, some still carry me and you. [Woman] I’m glad you called. [Man] You called me. [Woman] Then I’m glad I did. [Together] Somewhere between the two of us, we finally said what lived. [Outro] [Man] The box can stay with me. [Woman] Keep the photograph, then. [Man] And the blue umbrella? [Woman] Put it by the door. It still might rain.
