No, you don’t. You love it. Because for once, you’re not the one writing the script.

(smiles tightly) No, darling. Something I’m exhausted by. There’s a difference. Control is a rental agreement with anxiety. You think you’re the landlord. You’re not. You’re the tenant who’s afraid of the boiler.

You’re a monster.

It’s a Gala, Irina. Not an apple. Galas have symmetry. Red is at 2 o’clock. Green is at 8. This is basic fruit cartography.

(without looking up) If you rotate that apple one more time, I’m going to film it and put it on the internet. Title: Woman Declares War on Produce.

(sits across from her) You don’t need to borrow my lines. You have chaos. Chaos is its own kind of control, you know. You keep everything messy so no one expects you to hold anything together.

Finally. Something you’re bad at.