Kyle lost the knees of his jeans to paving driveways. He wore knee protectors and boots with steel toe-caps. He had sound-proof ear-muffs, but he didn't call them ear-muffs. He wore high-vis too, when it took his fancy, which should have been always, but instead, was sometimes, like the sight of a rainbow.
He was sleeping in Frank's mum's bed, in the after-thought of sex. His shoulders were large and avoided the quilt. He wasn't a staple of the bedroom, but he fitted in just fine.
Kyle had met Frank's mum Irene whilst finding her looking for a long time at his company's sign, positioned at the bottom of her neighbour's driveway, where it was Kyle was undertaking some work on elaborate cornerstones.
Irene had two curly bits of blonde hair resting on the apples of her cheeks as she looked at the sign which advertised all a man called Kyle Hicks could do - in a professional capacity, and in her counselling sessions Irene had been set a challenge by her counsellor, Marta, to approach someone new before their next session, to meet a man and ask him out for a drink.
Marta set these challenges with the expectation that they'd be dodged.
Marta was a pessimistic counsellor; a trait that meant her clients often stayed with her, for years.
Kyle looked at Irene, and Irene looked at his sign, aware that he was watching her. Irene tried to look as though she was looking right through the sign, but that didn't work, as she was hunched over and undoubtedly only looking at a sign which detailed the various types of paving a man called Kyle Hicks could do.
'It really isn't all that interesting' Kyle said to Irene.
'I seem to find it interesting though, don't I' Irene replied.
'You do. I don't know why, but you do' Kyle said.
Irene had stopped looking at the sign and instead put her gaze on Kyle.
'I was headed to the shop to buy some handcream' Irene said to Kyle.
'And you're not now?' He asked her.
'No, I'm not now' Irene smiled, and with Marta's voice in her head she asked Kyle over for tea.
'Do you like jigsaws?' Irene asked Kyle, as they drank tea together in her living room,
'Only with what you do for a living, it seems like you might'
'I don't know if I do' Kyle replied.
'That's a shame' Irene replied.
'Why?' Kyle asked.
'Because you'd be really good at them'
Kyle's knees protruded from the denim around them. Irene's hair lay in her eyes. Mugs of tea gave their hands something to hold, and they needed them - things to be held.
Behind the netted window, the afternoon diminished. Mugs were substituted with the like of a knee.
And it was all very delicate, as they moved into place; like a jigsaw creating a bigger picture, they made sense together - Irene and Kyle.