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She held it all together. Because she simply had to. When things came falling apart, she would rise from her sofa and go to the kitchen. There she would evaluate the content of the refrigerator and settle upon the most difficult dish. The refrigerator was always more or less full, because she knew the moment would come and the last thing she'd imagine was to be disarmed when it all comes crashing. Then there would be hours of cooking: all ingredients in separate bowls, perfect amounts of spices and salt, steaming and boiling. When everything was ready she would not serve. The ecstatic moment of amnesia was over. She would retreat back to the sofa and begin waiting for another collapse.