The sweetness in the bowl comforted, despite the conflict I had suffered. My outer layers relished the taste, while my innards nursed the consequences of severe talking. The pineapple piece passed from my tongue to the back of my mouth, and somewhere, there, it passed. Now that the sweetness had gone, my troubles returned to the front of my mind. She passed in the doorway, and my plot to mend things with soothing words departed. In my stomach I could feel the physical presence of the swiftly eaten breakfast, and the other pain – severe, untreatable, once avoidable but now irreversible.