“Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie blasts from the speakers of the stereo. Daniel bobs his head as he dances his way over to me. I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing the laugh that threatens to escape as he goofily moves and sings. He sounds horrible, his voice cracks every few notes, and he burns himself twice, but that doesn’t deter him from using the spatula as a microphone.
