She thinks about it for a minute, but then takes my hand and I place my other palm on her hip and we begin to sway around the room. Softly, somewhere in the house, a piano begins to play and she leans her head against my neck, closing her eyes. The lights dim and the music gets louder, almost like it's playing in the kitchen and I'm admiring her features in the glow of the light and the caress of the shadows of the night.

Suddenly, a screaming from the oven cuts off the music and the lights brighten and Dipper opens her eyes lazily, slowly pulling away. I rush to the oven, taking the pretzels out and grabbing the salt and spreading it like seeds, hoping it finds purchase before presenting it to Dipper.