They’re in the yard, building…something. She’s not sure what, but so far it’s got four legs and a kind of platform so could be a table, but for really tall, really thin people. Stick figures, like the ones she used to imagine William would draw at kinder. A shiver slices up her spine. She drops sliced lemons into the jug and adds crushed ice at the very moment Mulder wipes his brow on the back of his arm and over the gust of wind that snaps into the kitchen window she sees them share some joke which sets Jackson off laughing and dancing, hips swinging wildly. Mulder stands back, propping the saw on its blade end and watching. She’s struck by the easiness of them. Their camaraderie. A mateship. She can’t…she hasn’t got the same…what would Jackson say? Vibe? Mood? Whatever, she tips her chin to her chest and carries the tray outside into the sucking heat.