A steel-haired couple dining out with his shrunken mother. The man’s posture rigid, emphasizing his gut. He orders his meal and his mother’s with the tone of one used to being in charge. His wife talks of baking. She says that she will not bake peanut butter cookies because only he will eat them. The old woman mumbles through a sudden glimmer of a smile; her son shrugs a reply, his eyes on his uneaten salad.