Emil had watched people grow old and die around him for an eternity. Coleen only understood it as a concept. As numb as she felt now, she knew it would affect her when it happened. When Emil died. Then she would fall numb again. It was not a big deal.

“Something other than being a homemaker,” Emil clarified.

At one point that might have enraged her. Coleen could not feel beyond the numbness of peace and reconstruction.

“I could be a homemaker,” she mused, the thought no longer a sexist insult. Someone who fixed, who did not destroy. Something she could be appreciated for doing… unlike what had happened.

“You certainly have become odd since losing your throne.” Emil placed the broom aside and sat at the table. He had bought what she had requested (like the apples), but under the grocery bag was a rectangular box. Emil opened the box and slid it to him.

Coleen took the lid and closed it. “You need to watch what you eat now. Food can kill you.”

Emil did not even blink. “Food has killed me.”

She took the box from the table. “Then let’s not repeat the experience.”