"Jason, what’s wrong?" asks Karina.
"Nothing," he spits back.
Unsatisfied, Karina continues to probe. Jason uses swift, tight-gripped brush strokes to paint a stony and unyielding mood picture. For fear that further painting might do more damage, Karina stops asking questions.
Jason burning the wall with his eyes. Sinatra swelling like smoke from the store speakers, echoing as if from the end of a distant cavern - a cavern so deep that, for all we know, the song now reaching us may actually be long over.
"It’s the most… wonderful time… of the year…"
None of us want to be here.