<blockquote>It was the war's fault that she was there, in dungarees and with all her wavy red hair tied back in a kerchief, her hands grubby in the crevices of her knuckles and palms, holding pneumatic tools she hadn't known had existed two weeks before, wearing a gold locket with Tom's picture in it the way his letters promised he kept what few pictures he had of her wedged in the crevices of the metal that held his bunk to the wall. The war was responsible for how the nails she'd always kept so nice were ragged at the tips and cuticles, and rimmed around and beneath with heavy black-brown grease; the war was why she came home to an empty house and cooked supper for one and jumped in the middle of the night at every unexplained noise and sometimes stayed awake until dawn, hugging Tom's pillow to her chest and telling herself it was going to be all right.</blockquote>
➤ happy comfortable poly (V triad) during and after WWII
➤ and the art that goes with it is perfect
