He argues there has to be a point. She smiles, placating, that’s what they want you to think. A cat walks in their midst, having jumped onto the table, long tail towering over their heads and swaying gently side to side. Meow, the cat says, silencing them both.
Kitty swipes at his King and sends it toppling to the floor; Kitty swipes at her Bishop, which hits her Knight and her Queen, and sends all three pieces falling to her lap. Kitty walks in circles and settles on their chess board for another nap. Together they reach for the cat’s fur and scratch until they hear the purr of contentment; quietly he marvels at his triumph and she marvels at the wonder of his words ever being true.
We need to iron our clothes though. You will iron our clothes, right?
No, why should we iron our clothes, we both burn through them.
Well I burned my uniforms twice. So.