The atonal ringing of seven different pots and pans hums through the room. She is transfixed by the spinning, vibrating containers. She hears Chris, angry, but doesn't register the words. "...bozo," she hears, and begins to come to. She looks up at him, but he is already cleaning and cannot see the tears that fill her eyes. She finds herself sitting at the table, slowly caressing the cookbook's cover with one hand. Chris tries to take it from her, and she resists. **Why can't he just leave me alone!** The cover gives way between them. **He looks heartbroken... I can trust him.**
"I'm tired of take out. I want Daddy to cook for us..." Her voice seizes and she nearly chokes. She feels Chris hug her, but the surprise doesn't hit until he volunteers to help her cook for real tomorrow. **Can he miss Daddy as much as I do?**