There's tenseness there, in her shoulders; tenseness that shouldn't be, of course, but that is because his new wife always strives to keep the troubling thoughts and fears carefully hidden, out of sight.

The dreams of her mysterious paintings as places come to life. Visions of a small, silver haired child at her side--one that looked nothing like her children, or even Mithos. Who was that boy? Traveling from place to place. But always: that boy.

The feeling of being despised, most of all, in the eyes of strangers.

It all flows back to her, in the silence. "What shall I fix you for breakfast?"