Julián has been polishing a hallway brush for three years

"Morning, Julián. Is that brush yours?" "No, love." "No? You've been polishing it every morning for three years." "I have. And a pleasure it is." "Well, I was going to buy one for the landing, and…" "No need, Marta. That brush is yours too." "Mine?" "And everyone else's." "The community's?" "Yes." "And that's why you polish it?" "I polish it because I feel like it. Before I retired I was an accountant, like you. Counted numbers. Numbers don't shine." "Right. Well. Thanks, then." "Thank you."

Marta went up to her flat, made a coffee, and came back down fifteen minutes later with a microfibre cloth and the good glass cleaner.

"Julián." "Yes." "Do we start with the knob or the peephole?" "The peephole. Leave the knob for last: that's what they touch on the way out."