A picture hung above the fireplace. It was rather damaged from many years of hanging above long winter nights warmed by burning logs. The people in it had been rendered somewhat expressionless by the years. The beginnings of a rather bland cheese sandwich lay waiting on the kitchen counter. Oliver searched the kitchen drawers for a knife suitable for cheese-cutting, but came up empty handed. He contemplated attempting to use a butter knife, but resolved instead to simply discard the bread and chew the lump of cheese. He was suddenly struck by an idea and grabbed a jar of pickle from the fridge. He discovered that dipping the cheese in it was not quite the taste sensation he had hoped for, but at least made it somewhat less bland. He chewed his cheese as he looked up at the picture above the fireplace. He wondered if he should be thinking of something more deep and complex than how cheese dipped in pickle tasted, but really couldn’t think of what that should be. The cheese was soon finished and he went in search of something to remove the dry flavour of mature cheddar from his mouth. He found nothing and simply drank the pickle instead.