She gets up and swings into the kitchen for ice cubes and a hand towel. One of the cubes "escapes" and ends up behind his neck.
"What's with you?" she prods. "Where is the man my Aunt Zesta warned me about? Is that guy around someplace?"
"Dry lifeless husk behind the bowling shoes. I am his replacement."
"I wondered what that was." She passes him the icepack, now a damp rag. "But seriously, dear. What about those things you used to believe in? Fractals. Singularities. Surfing chaos."
"Hard to catch a wave on Flatbush Avenue."