Miriam looked at her husband as he lay on the couch peering left of the television. The walls had busy, textured wallpaper with floral designs. Though the colors were softer and brighter, it reminded her of the wallpaper that once enshrouded the confines of her in-laws’ brownstone. The poorly lit rooms with their ornate friezes, pelmets, and secular stained-glass transoms hadn’t offered one place a guest’s eye might rest comfortably. Their thick textures and lush hues devoured any wayward sunbeam that slipped through the damask curtains. “The Yankees are preposterous,” her husband mumbled, but when Miriam looked to the screen all she found was a mid-afternoon re-run of a show that had never been popular.