He arrives, confident, right on time.
He has tools whose application
I can only guess at. He listens
to my tale of leaking, gurgling
woe. He nods his head, his face
limned with a knowing smile.
My faith in him is boundless.
Surely salvation is at hand.
He begins his work humming.
Two hours later his hums
have ended. I hear him
stomping up the basement stairs.
We've got a real problem here
he says. I think his choice
of pronoun is, at very least,
just a smidge inaccurate.
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