Judy stands there, a small stack of his t-shirts in her hands. Her eyes are filling with tears. Daniel ignores them, takes the shirts from her and packs them in the suitcase beside his socks.

'I'll be gone until Thursday," he says. He pushes the ticket when he sees his advantage, is hoping that Michelle can get the extra time.

"Thursday?" she asks. The tears have air-dried before they could fall. Secretly she is proud of that power she has.

Their bedroom billows of harmony, natural warm cherry wood and blue skies dancing with white clouds of curtains. He hates its serenity, its lies.