I am in a house I've never seen before, a big one. I'm in the kitchen. I'm hungry and looking around for something to eat. Pickings are slim. I hear Howard outside in the front yard telling the neighborhood children not to play in our yard. I hear his boring, dead voice droning on about civic responsibility. I idly wonder if I could sleep with him now and have sex. I feel forgiving and try to imagine if I could do it without feeling horrible. It is a possibility. He comes in and I am at the sink rinsing a bunch of spaghetti and pretzels in the sink. He suggests I could go out and talk to the kids sometime. I say, "I agree I need something to do, but giving civic lessons to the kids isn't going to be it." Then I ask if he is hungry. He says yes, a little bit. I then hesitate and then ask if I can fix him some toast, or even fry a couple of eggs. I am relieved when he says no. I see a plastic container full of cooked spinach and ask him if that is his. He says yes. I see that he is on his belly on the floor, digging around in a cupboard for something. I ask him what he's trying to get. He says salt. I see him pick it up awkwardly with his teeth. I take it from his mouth and use it to salt his spinach and then my spaghetti. I notice he had put an unshucked ear of corn on my plate. I touch it. It is cool, and uncooked too. I decide not to salt it yet, but cook it first.