She could never understand why he wanted to stay home.
All he wanted to do was read.
She had to get out. Do something.
Go see a movie.
Go to a museum.
But books, all he wanted to do was read.
Even when he went with her, she drove, and he just stared out the window.
What was he thinking?
Finally she asked, "What are you thinking?"
"All my stories that I have drowned in the river of these waters of 'other things'," he replied.
And she still did not understand what he was talking about, but they pulled into the parking lot of the home goods store and they went inside to buy some throw pillows and a summer wreath for the front door.