“I think it would be nice to have a picnic,” she finally says. “A picnic,” I repeat. “Yeah,” she says slowly, still ping-ponging her attention around the studio. “It doesn’t have to be outdoors either. Maybe on the living room floor. Nothing fancy. Carry-out from a burger place and a fort made out of sheets. Maybe a movie in the background. I don’t know. The idea always seemed nice.” “Eating on the floor seems nice?”
