Her eyes are closed. She leans over the table. She listens to her lover play his harmonica. Rapture remakes her features, a labour of quiet intent. On her plate, an untouched lobster. On his, a carcass. Three empty cans of Budweiser. The sum of her efforts reversed in a few stray gestures, the one-sided calculus of heterosexual relationships. Two people share one table. But their realities diverge.