"That clock never belonged to the mayor," said a man standing behind Irma's group. The tourists turned like an audience promised an unexpected sequel. Irma stopped mid-story and asked him to explain. He was the museum's restorer, named Leon, with a paint stain on his cuff. The clock had belonged to a watchmaker who donated it much later. Irma thanked him, but his correction before twenty people stung throughout the tour.
Afterwards, she waited for him in the courtyard. She said she wanted accurate information but could receive it without a public surprise. Leon first began defending the clock's history. Then he realized she wasn't arguing about the clock. He apologized and offered to show her the workshop, where objects stood that guides rarely mentioned. Irma agreed to visit the following Thursday, between groups.
There she found a broken music box, a child's chair, and a frame whose ornament resembled a displeased dog. Leon spoke carefully, without the interruption through which they had met. Irma asked about the people who used the objects, and he realized how rarely he considered them while cleaning surfaces. The visit produced a new tour story. Gratitude didn't produce coffee because both were too shy to say they wanted it.
They eventually had coffee when a group canceled. Irma had a free hour, and Leon had a break he usually spent working. They discussed their jobs, then their worst holidays, and finally food they could eat every day. When she stood to leave, Leon said he liked the way she asked questions. Irma replied that she liked even more the way he now listened.
They first went out on Sunday, to a park without historical signs. Leon tried identifying a tree, then stopped and laughed. He didn't need to give everything its correct name. Irma spoke about the aunt who taught her to address people by making her order cakes for the entire family. Leon admitted that in company he often chose knowledge because he didn't know how to show uncertainty. She took his hand without interrupting their walk.
The next Thursday, the group asked who was waving through the workshop window. Irma gave his name and occupation without a private addition he hadn't approved. After the tour, he waited in the courtyard with two concert tickets. She asked what he knew about the performers. "Very little," he replied. "I thought we could find out together." This time, she let the pause linger before smiling.